The 84th Annual Hunger Games
by danahscott
Summary: What if the Hunger Games never stopped? Twenty four tributes. Twenty four points of view. One victor. Let the 84th Annual Hunger Games begin.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey, y'all, I've been working on this for quite some time now, and though I know these stories aren't super popular, I have to say, I'm super pumped for anyone who reads this to finally see what I've been working on.**

 **It's been a really, really, REALLY long journey writing this, so it's finally done! Expect an update every other day! Hope you enjoy!**

For the first time in a long time, Starla didn't know _what_ was going to happen at the reaping. She smoothed down the ends of her blue and white skirt, something she tended to do whenever she was nervous. Her parents had insisted she spend the whole last week training, and so she did. Halfheartedly, like always. She knew that in order to be in District One, you had to train. So instead of viewing it as a life goal, she viewed it as a security blanket.

If she had to go into the Games, she was ready, she knew that, but if it could be helped - and usually it could - she'd much prefer to stay home. She was seventeen years old. At this point, she'd been through enough reapings that she was half-asleep during the speeches and videos. But when, Diamond, the district's escort pulling out a name, the whole crowd seemed to be awake, pulsing, vibrant, _alive_.

"Starla Weilder!" It took her a moment to realize it was her name that was called, because she was too busy being baffled by the fact that no one was volunteering. She stayed frozen, looking upon the sea of viable girls, some who had been preparing their whole lives to compete. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see one of the peacekeepers move in a hesitant way, as if they'd forgotten what to do. It had been a while since someone refused to go onstage.

The shuffling of his feet woke her up, and like some memorized routine, she began the long walk up to the stage. She could already see in her mind the members of the Capitol sitting on bated breath, with full knowledge what was going to happen when she finally got up to the stage. They liked suspense, but who could blame them? She figured that from their standpoint, it was just as fictional as the pulp novels sitting in her bedroom.

She blinked a few more times, trying to bring some feeling to the surface other than disbelief. The crowd was silent. No one was volunteering, not one miserable peep. And of course, Starla knew why this year was different. Diamond asked her a few cursory things, like how old she was, if she was excited, and as if she'd memorized lines from a script, Starla replied without thinking about what she was saying too hard.

But before she knew it, she was already forgotten, because Diamond's hand was plunging into the other bowl, moving deliciously slowly, and as soon as she was opening up the slip, a shout rang through the audience. "I volunteer!"

Usually, Diamond can at least get the name out. Starla almost wanted to laugh. As if anyone else would have tried. As if there was someone out there who didn't know whose year it was. There was a reason no one volunteered for her, and that reason was strolling up to the stage as if he hadn't the slightest care in the world. Knowing him, he probably didn't. _He_ had nothing to worry about. Starla, on the other hand…

If she had gotten reaped any other year, any year where Xavier Colmer wasn't slated to volunteer, than undoubtedly she'd be fine. She could feel the shock starting to wear off around the edges, but she hoped it would last at least a little bit longer. The longer the better, really. Hopefully, it would last her all the way to Victor's Village.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Xavier relished in the walk up the stage, because if _he_ relished in it, then surely sponsors would. But with or without sponsors, this was Xavier's year. District Two had taken their victory the year before, and Xavier was there to ensure that it did not happen again. The usual questions were asked, and the standard answers were said, just as he'd gone over with the trainer earlier today, and then it was time to shake hands.

He outstretched his hand to her first, and she tentatively grabbed it as if she were afraid to touch him. He looked down at her. Her green eyes darted away just as soon as their eyes met, but it was enough to see the fear in them. Didn't she know already? District One tributes always ally with each other.

That scared, fleeting glance made Xavier feel a little bit unsettled, but he supposed he'd just have to get used to it. After all, he was probably going to be seeing that look a lot in the next month.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

They sat in a sort of tense silence on the train, waiting for it to start moving. Waiting for everything to start, Xavier guessed. The moment they pulled into the Capitol, everything was going to change. These were their last few moments of being regular kids from the district. Oddly, it made Xavier a little sad to be leaving all of it behind.

He noticed a small chain with a star charm hanging off Starla's neck. He was pretty sure it wasn't there before the reaping, so she must have gotten it as her token. "Nice necklace," he said, in a lame attempt to start conversation.

Her eyes flicked up at him, then down, then back up at him again. "What's your token?" she asked, as if by obligation.

"Oh, uh, I don't have one. No, I just figured there's no need for it. Don't want emotions getting in the way."

She furrowed her brow, and Xavier could see a little crinkle form right in the center of her forehead. "Really?" Starla asked. He shrugged. "I mean, I get the emotions thing but, I don't know, don't you want something to remind you of home?"

"Too late now." He smiled at her, but she wasn't looking at him. He watched as Starla slipped off a yarn-woven bracelet from her wrist. Though she looked vaguely unsure, she took his hand, lightly, still afraid to touch him, it seemed, and slipped the bracelet onto his wrist.

"I made that last week as a good luck charm for the reaping," she started, sounding embarrassed. "Clearly, it didn't do me any good, but maybe some luck will rub off on you. Not that you'll need it."

She stared at the bracelet a long time after giving it to him, and a large part of Xavier felt the sudden urge to apologize and give it back to her, even though he knew he didn't do anything wrong. When she looked away, her eyes were glassy, and without another word to him, she stood up and left the compartment as the train began to lurch forward.

And as she walked away, he couldn't help imagining all of the different ways he might have to kill her.


	2. District Two Reaping

Today was undoubtedly Sasha Dementor's _day_ \- even if she was the only one who knew it. It was understood that her older sister, Bella, was meant to volunteer. She was eighteen years old; her parents had sat Sasha down the night before and told her that as soon as she was eighteen she would get her chance. But Sasha was never one to wait.

She was anticipating the look on everyone's face when she shouted "I volunteer!" before her sister got the chance, but while walking arm and arm to the reaping with her best friend, Marley, she was bursting with excitement. And she knew she had to tell someone to get it out of her system.

"Marley," she started, trying to maintain a semblance of casualness, "I thought you should know… I'm planning on volunteering today." Marley stopped dead in her tracks and Sasha couldn't help the slow smile that began to unfurl on her face. Yes, she was looking forward to reactions like that.

"What?" Sasha heard Marley say. "But - I thought Bella's volunteering?"

"That's what she thinks," Sasha said, speeding up her walking in anticipation.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Marley asked, and Sasha's smile dropped as her heart started beating faster. The last thing she needed was last minute doubts because her best friend didn't believe in her. "I'm sorry, but… You'll be better off with the two extra years of training, you know, and -"

"Okay, okay, message received."

"So you're not gonna do it?"

"I didn't say I wasn't going to do it." And with that, Sasha sped up even more until she was just short of a jog, effectively losing Marley. _This is my day_ , she kept repeating to herself. So what if Marley didn't believe in her? She believed in herself. And that was more than enough.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Steller Hart looked around the crowd as the Treaty of Treason was being read. If these were going to be his last few moments of a free life, he was going to cherish them. He was selected as this year's male tribute during training. He knew he would be. He was twice as strong as the strongest guy there. Maybe it was because he was training with a purpose beyond the stupid Games.

He knew better than to let anyone else know that, though. No one would understand, not here. He snapped back to attention as someone from the girl's section shouted, "I volunteer!" He watched her make her way to the stage, standing in a white lace dress with her big brown eyes, looking pretty as a china doll and as harmless, too. Sweet, even.

Except Steller knew better. Sasha was one of the fiercest students at The Academy. You get her a couple shurikens and she can reign havoc. The only thing was - she wasn't supposed to volunteer today. Everyone knew it was Bella, her sister. Curiosity prickled at the back of his mind, but he brushed the matter aside. That wasn't important. What was important was being ready. From the moment he said his next two words, all eyes were going to be on him from now until he finally did the thing he came to do.

All his life, Steller wondered if he was going to have enough nerve to volunteer. But as he shouted the words, he found they came as quickly and easily as they had when he rehearsed it. He went over his plan during his walk to the stage, making sure to keep a pleasant, carefree smile on his face.

He was going to win the Hunger Games, he was going to sit in that chair for the Victor's interview, he was going to do whatever it took - kill whoever he had to kill - to get there. And when President Snow went to set the crown on his head, he was going to stab him straight through the heart.

Undoubtedly, he was going to be shot dead on the spot. He was willing to make that sacrifice. He'd never get to see what happened, but Steller knew there was no way things would just stay the same. He didn't know - he hoped, but didn't know - if that would be enough to change things for the better. But he'd thought about it, and he really didn't see what else he could do. Walking to the stage, he could almost see himself sitting in the victor's chair. A so long imagined fancy, solidifying with every step he took. Only twenty-three kids to kill to get there. He wouldn't enjoy it, but he'd do what he had to do.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

To say the vibe in the room was tense would be an understatement. She could tell her parents were a little confused as to how to shift their pride over to their other daughter. And Bella didn't show up at all. Her mom pulled out a long pink ribbon.

"Well, Sasha, this was meant to be for Bella, but…" She glanced at Sasha's dad. "Well, I guess it's yours now. We wanted our daughter to have a token in the arena." Tentatively, her mother pulled Sasha into a quick and awkward hug. They weren't the touchy-feely type. "We know you can make us proud, Sasha."  
"Yeah, of course," she mumbled, and then before she knew it, they had gone. She felt a weird, hollow feeling in her chest, but it wasn't like this was goodbye. She was going to see them in a month. There was nothing to worry about.

And then, Marley came in. Instantly she had her arms around Sasha, and it was an unsettling feeling. She'd been hugged more in the past two minutes than she had in the past two years. "Come home, Sasha, please," Marley whispered.

Sasha managed a feeble laugh. "I didn't volunteer to die, you know."

"I know you think that," Marley said, and instantly Sasha pried her hands off her shoulders.

"Mar, no offense, but I think you should go."

"What?"

"Look, I don't need someone psyching me out, okay? Just… go." Marley just blinked at her. "It's not like this is goodbye, I'll be gone for, like, a month, alright? Could you go?" And she did. For the first time that afternoon, Sasha finally took a breath. She made the right choice. She did.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Steller's room was far cheerier. At least, on his parents' end. He didn't have a lot of friends; too much energy was focused into training. There were only two people saying goodbye to him that day.

"We're proud of you, boy, we knew you could do it!" His dad said, clapping him on the back, like Steller had already won, like he'd done anything other than say two words and shake hands with Sasha. "And of course, we have your token prepared." His dad pulled out a thick bracelet that said, "PERSEVERE" in big black letters. Steller masked a grimace with a smile and thanked him.

Later on the train, after meeting the mentors, while he was lying on his bed and waiting to arrive to the Capitol, all he could see was that bracelet. So he ripped it off and threw it away. On the whole, he felt much better afterwards.


	3. District Three Reaping

**Shorter chapter today, hope you still dig. I'm trying to make the reapings seem interesting since you get the vibe of the characters, while also having them not all seem the same? So, it's hard. But I hope you enjoy the chapter. (Thank you to my reviewer!)**

Hazel wasn't technically supposed to be doing this, but it wasn't like anyone would notice. She sliced off a sliver of the new machinery she was working on. It sparked a little bit, burning white hot, and then faded until it was just a metal chip. There. If she got chosen, she'd have a token to take with her. This had been her reaping ritual ever since she was twelve. It was strange to think this would be the last time she did it. But it wasn't like Hazel was complaining - she had to say, she was ready for her reapings to end. And it would take a terrible kind of luck to get picked now, when she's so close to the end. Hazel took a deep breaths, and banished those thoughts from her mind. In a few hours, she'd be back at home and celebrating her freedom. If she could just make it until then, everything would turn out fine.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Anchora Griffin was fourteen years old. Anchora Griffin wasn't speaking. Anchora Griffin had not spoken in five years. When he first stopped talking, he hadn't even meant to do it. It started after his parents died. It was snowy, the day they were both shot by Peacekeepers, right in front of him. The Peacekeepers left him there, in between his dead parents, wailing, and cold. It was two hours before someone found him. He didn't plan on staying quiet, but he stopped seeing the point in talking. What could he say - what could he _possibly_ say that would make things better? So he didn't say anything. And then, when time put some distance between them and him, it just felt easier not to talk.

He was always a quiet kid. But this was different. It was two years of silence before Anchora decided that he'd speak again when he knew what his parents had died for. He had so many questions about that day. Were they making an example of his parents? No, that was unlikely. He'd seen those before, and that would have been on the stage for the whole town to watch. So what did his parents do to die?

One day, he was going to figure it out. But first, he had to get through the reaping. He snapped back to attention at the shout of "Ladies first!" He hadn't even realized the Treaty of Treason had been read.

Fluffy, the escort, cleared her throat. "Hazel Knives." Hazel? She picked Hazel? Anchora watched as she stepped out of the girls section and made her way toward the stage, shrinking into herself. She had always been easy to read, and right now, she was terrified. When she got up the stage, her skin was almost white, she was so pale, which just made her long, long black hair stand out in starker contrast.

Hazel had been his only friend. She didn't care that he wouldn't talk back, because she always had plenty to say. But she left school to go help her parents out, and afterwards, they didn't really talk that much. But he didn't ever have anyone else, and now, she was going to die, too. He was so caught up in thinking about her, his parents, how unfair the whole damn world could be, that when Fluffy called his name, he almost didn't hear it.

As he made the walk up to the stage, he felt his locket beating against his chest, almost as if it was his real heart. It was the only thing he had from his parents. And now, he supposed it would be his token. All of the eyes of his classmates were on him, and he felt himself squirming a little bit. But, then again, they were usually all staring at him, anyway, except their cries of "Avox!" were silent today. He supposed one good thing was that he'd never have to hear them again.

"Now, Hazel how old are you?"

"Eighteen," she muttered.

"And what about you, Anchora?" His heart slammed, slammed, slammed against his chest. Hazel grabbed the microphone again.  
"He's fourteen." He was never more grateful to be Hazel's friend than he was in that moment. She caught his eye and he felt his spirit lift just a little bit. If he could save her from this, he would, but it was going to be nice not to go into this alone. She didn't smile, exactly, but after years of friendship, he knew what she was saying: _We're in this together_.


	4. District Four Reaping

**just wanna say a quick thank you to those of you who reviewed, it means more than you know xx**

Today was little Amethyst Dawn's first reaping, and no matter what anybody told her, she had a terrible, terrible feeling about it. With a shaking, freckled hand, she pushed a strand of orange hair behind her ear. Her mom had helped her look extra nice for today. She'd even sewn her a new white dress. Her name was only in there once, and Amy knew that if, by some chance, she was picked, there wouldn't be a chance for her. Even for twelve years old, she looked young. And there was absolutely no way she would be able to kill.

Living in District Four, you could never count on someone volunteering for your place. And she didn't have an older sister who could

volunteer for her. Her stomach churned. She felt like she might be sick. She had a really bad feeling about the reaping. Her parents told her it was just nerves, that she'd get over it. But then there was that one time when her pet cat, who often let herself in and out of the house when she felt like it, wasn't there when Amy'd gotten home, she had a bad feeling about that, too. She'd found her dead by the side of the road on her way to school the next morning.

Before she was eligible, the Hunger Games felt more like a distant terror, but as Amy climbed up in age, it got more and more real, but never as real as it did when the escort plunged her hand into the big glass bowl. Only one tiny slip, Amy had to remind herself. That was all.

"Ladies first!"

-::-::-::-::-::-

Wright Geon watched with a sort of muted interest as a little twelve-year-old girl was called to the stage. Yikes. That's gotta blow. Usually District Four allies with the careers, but there's no way a twelve-year-old is gonna be let in. But Wright didn't really care about the competition. As far as he was concerned, there wasn't any. "Now for the bo-"

"I volunteer!" He yelled it out as if it was just instinct, and after all the time he spent practicing with his parents, it probably was. He strided up to the stage, making sure to look confident, but he felt confident, too. He ignored the little girl on stage shaking in her pretty white dress. He heard a few grumbles and a few sighs of relief, but in his head, he could picture the Capitol bursting with applause. He could almost _hear_ it.

"And what's your name?" Viola, the escort asked him when he got up to the stage.

"I'm Wright Geon. I'm eighteen years old, and I'm the victor of the eighty-fourth annual Hunger Games," he said, and then took a step back.

Viola burst into a manic-looking smile. The escorts were always happy to have a tribute with such confidence, and Wright knew that would win him instant sponsors.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-**

When Amy got to the Justice Building, she was calmer than she thought she'd be. She was twelve, she was young, and that meant people would underestimate her. She had always been fast, she had always been nimble and if she found an ally, there was a chance that she could come out alive. She'd been watching the Games for years, and slowly, she started to count victors in her head, trying to remember how they'd won, whether any of them were as young as she was. She couldn't think of any twelve-year-old winning.

But at the sight of her mother, any hopes of becoming the victor flew out of her head. Instantly, she crumbled into tears. For a few moments, her mom just held her as she sobbed while her dad rubbed circles on her back. In the back of her mind, she knew that she was wasting their goodbye. She just wanted to stay a kid a little while longer, that was all. Just a few moments more.

When she looked up, she saw her dad was crying. She didn't think she'd ever seen him cry before.

"We don't have much time left, so we - we brought you this token, for the arena," he said, his voice cracking as he held out the red amulet Amy had admired for years. It was his good luck charm. He brought it fishing with him every day, and whenever he brought home food, she'd always hold the amulet in her hands and smile. When she was really little, he used to have her give it a kiss in the morning before he left, to activate the good luck.

She wanted to give it back to him, tell him he'd need it, or that he'd miss it too much, but Amy decided to let herself be selfish. After all, if this thing really was lucky, she was going to need all the luck she could get.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-**

Over in Wright's room, things were wrapping up nicely. He made a little bit of small talk with his parents, he gave each of them a hug and a kiss, and they gave him his token: a little silver keychain, reading _Unbreakable._ He loved it. They gave him another hug, just for good measure, told him to have fun, and that they'd see him in a month. "Remember, son, this is about taking back what's _ours_ ," his Dad finished with, then left. His mother had been a little bit quieter than his father. She'd been worried, because of what happened before. But there was nothing to worry about.

He'd been preparing his whole life to do this. And as he stepped on the train, he already knew who his first kill would be. In a couple of hours, a boy from District Ten was going to be reaped. As soon as Wright got in the arena, he was going to find him. He was going to kill him. He was going to make it hurt.


	5. District Five Reaping

Two more reapings, Ari Salt thought. Just two more reapings, and then we're free. She glanced over at Eric, standing in the boy's section. He was staring ahead, his jaw set in a hard line. After today, he only had one more. He worried about it more than Ari did. That isn't to say Ari didn't worry, because she did, a lot. But if she was going to be reaped, she was going to be reaped. There wasn't anything anyone could to stop that. Whatever name was called was going to be called, and if it was her name… She'd deal with it if it came down to that.

The Treaty of Treason finished reading. It was time for the part Ari dreaded. She looked at Athena, the victor from ten years ago, standing on stage, looking glowing in a white sundress. She'd known Athena from years before. She used to help take care of the four-year-olds in the town's daycare. She babysat Ari all the time.

Then, Athena got reaped for the seventy-fourth annual Hunger Games. Nobody expected her to win, but she did it without even killing anybody. She let everyone kill each other and themselves, until finally, when it was down to her and Cato, She waited him out, tricked him into going down and held her knees to her chest as she listened to him being ripped apart by mutts. There hadn't been a District Five victor since.

Ari tried to catch Eric's eye from across the crowd, but he was looking down, murmuring a silent prayer like he always did. She knew he was praying for her. She was still looking at Eric when her name was called. Her stomach lurched, and instantly she felt dizzy, and Ari wondered if she was going to pass out. She wouldn't be the first. The crowd around her started to shuffle apart, leaving her standing in the middle of a wide open space.

She caught the look of horror and recognition wash over Eric's face. A peacekeeper came and pulled her from the crowd. She didn't mean not to cooperate, but her feet wouldn't move, and he half-dragged her up to the stage. The whole time, Eric was screaming, "Volunteer! Volunteer! Somebody, please, volunteer!"

But no one said a word. Eric seemed to realize this, too, as his shouts dissipated into wordless terror. The silence felt deafening. When finally Ari got up to the stage, the escort didn't even bother asking her how old she was. Eric was being held back by someone in the crowd, and Ari shook her head, trying to send a silent message to him. _Don't, don't. It will only be harder._ But she didn't know if anyone could hear her at all.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-**

When the escort called, "Zender Que!" his first response was disbelief. But he didn't let it show, because from that moment on, he knew, all eyes would be on him. Knowing this, Zender made sure to give himself a downcast look. A little bummed - not crying, not heartbroken, but bummed. That way, his response would be accurate without creating guilt for the people who caused it. He made sure to simultaneously look stoic as he walked to the stage.

Zender knew he was attractive. To put it blankly, he was like Finnick Odair with black hair. And that would have to be used to his immediate advantage. Already, gears were spinning in his head. Be terrified in private - cry, break down, do whatever he had to. But now that a camera was on him, it was up to Zender to make sure the audience was as smitten with him as possible.

Zender felt Alex's gaze in the crowd, knew he was crying, but didn't look. If the sponsors thought he was taken by someone back at home, then they could cross him off.

When he finally got to the stage, he was hit with an odd thought. No matter what happened, there was one thing he could count on: everything was about to change.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-**

As soon as Ari arrived to the Justice Building, she collapsed to her knees in tears. Within moments, she felt arms holding her. Eric's arms. She would be in them for the last time. "I should've volunteered," she heard him say. By the sound of his voice, he was crying too. "I could've protected you. I could've-"

She turned to face him, cutting him off, and they pushed themselves up to their feet. "Please don't worry. I'll be fine," she said, but her voice broke on the last word. They both knew that wasn't true.

"Let's get married," he said, and the idea was so wild that even between her tears, Ari started to laugh. "If - When you come back, let's just go get married. How does that sound?"

"Eric -"

"Because you _are_ coming back."

"No, I'm not." The silence after she said it was tense. It was the first time in a while that things had felt tense between them. The only sound in the room were her shuddering breaths.

"What do you mean, you're not?"

"I can't kill anyone. I'm just a kid! I can't - I can't -" She started to cry again, and he held her, but he wasn't done speaking.

"No one would judge you for it. Ari, that's the whole point. Please, please just promise me you'll try."

"I can't. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I want it to be different, I just - god, I just want to go _home._ "

The peacekeepers came in, then, and started pulling them apart. As her fingers slid from his, it felt like a part of her had already died, knowing that she would never touch him again, that he would never hold her again.

"Ari, please come back! Promise me you'll come back!" And then the door shut, and Ari realized she really was all alone. She'd never see him again, and she couldn't even do the last thing he'd asked her.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-**

Zender didn't want to pull away from Alex, he just wanted his lips more and more, even when he already had them. But if this was the last time they'd ever see each other, Zender knew he should say something. He pulled away from the kiss, finally, and took a moment just studying Alex.

He was crying, his eyes red and shiny, but he was still so beautiful. It was strange to think that he wouldn't see him tomorrow, or the day after. It was strange to think that he might never see him again. All Zender wanted to do was make Alex feel okay, to make things better. But there wasn't really anything that could make this better. He knew that. Still, he tried. "I'll do whatever I have to. I'm going to win. I'm going to come home."

Alex pulled something out of his pocket. A long string with a ring hanging off the end, and Zender wanted to cry, but that would only make things worse for Alex. (He'd cry later, holed up in a compartment on the train. Ari would walk in, stand in the doorway for a second, then quietly close the door and walk out.) "I thought this could be your - you know, if you want to."

"Of _course_ I want to. And you know that whatever it is you see me do, it's only for sponsors. You know I'll be thinking of you every moment."

"As long as you come home, I don't care what you have to do. I love you, you know."

"I know. You know, too?"

Alex nodded, his face contorting with tears again. As he watched him go, Zender knew he wasn't going to lose. Not with such a good reason to come home.


	6. District Six Reaping

Ivory Blythe thought that after three years of reapings the nerves would go away even a little bit. She was wrong. It still felt as nerve-wracking as the first time she stood there in her baby blue dress. She felt her stomach grumbling for food, and though she knew it changed her odds, she felt momentarily grateful for the tesserae she'd get from the extra names in the bowl. Her family needed it, especially now that her mother was pregnant.

She turned around for the seventeenth time, looking at her dad. Her mother was home with her little brother, Johnny, but her dad promised he'd come to support her. And he did. Momentarily, Ivory felt a little bit comforted. She snapped her head to the front as Lilly, the escort, called out the dreaded, "Ladies first." Almost dreadfully slowly, she plunged her hand in the large glass bowl. Ivory's stomach dropped. Out of everyone standing in the square, her name was called. Oh, god.

She stepped out into the crowd, but her legs were trembling. She saw her friend Delilah crying in the crowd. They were as close as two girls could be, but not close enough, she guessed. Ivory didn't blame her. If their roles were reversed, she doubted she'd volunteer, either. The stage suddenly seemed so impossibly far away. Her ears were ringing, but she could still hear her dad screaming. She didn't want to turn around and see him being restricted by peacekeepers. She'd break down on the spot if she did.

One foot in front of the other, one foot in front of the other. Finally, after an eternity, she made her way onto the stage. Like clockwork, Lilly said, almost flatly, "Any volunteers?" She was required to say it, of course, but there never was one.

Today, though, from the middle of the girl's section, a small voice shouted, "I volunteer!"

Ivory almost crumbled to the ground with relief. Instantly she was off the stage and by some miracle, her dad was there. Without thinking, she dived straight into his arms. She was so, so scared she would never see him again. But now, she was safe, all because of the girl onstage.

She didn't look much older than Ivory, but she was _grinning_. Ivory didn't even know her. But she had never felt more grateful for anyone's existence than that girl. "What's your name?" Lilly asked her.

"My name is Rose Alves. I'm seventeen years old, and I'm going to win the eighty-fourth Hunger Games." The way she said it, Ivory almost believed it was true.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-**

"Now for the boys." Lilly was quick about this one. It seemed clear she was thrown by the volunteer. It had been twenty years since their last one. "Jack Hound!" Jack was almost surprised to hear his name said by anybody at all.

The only time anybody said his name was when they were calling him to the front of the lunch line for a measly portion at the orphanage. The District was in the middle of a famine, but the orphans caught it the worse. No one was there to look after them; what was the point of worrying over kids who had nothing?

Jack didn't want to die. For a wild moment, he hoped there'd be another rogue volunteer, inspired by the Rose girl. But there was a part of him looking forward to the Capitol, where there would be food and a warm bed and some company for a change. He clutched at his leather bracelets for comfort. He'd collected them from the old shopkeeper who'd taken a liking to him. When she died, he got the bracelets she had left for him.

Jack was so thin, you could count every single one of his ribs. His arms looked like little bony sticks jutting out the ends of his shirt. It didn't really matter how much food they gave him. He wasn't going to be strong enough to win. He was already resigned to his fate, but then again, he'd been resigned to that a long time ago.

As he shook hands with Rose, a silent part of him hoped she'd win. The district could really use the food. And as the peacekeeper led him into the Justice Building, for the first time in a long time, Jack spoke without being spoken to first. "Nobody's coming for me. Can I go sit in the train?"

 **-::-::-::-::-::-**

When Ivory came into the Justice Building, Rose was sitting on a chair lazily twirling a strand of hair around her finger like it was an ordinary Saturday morning, like she hadn't just volunteered to risk her life in front of all of Panem.

Ivory cleared her throat, and Rose looked up at her, surprised to see her standing there. "Hi. I know we've never met but… you saved my life today. I know that nothing I can say will ever be enough to show you how grateful I am, but thank you."

Rose gave Ivory a toothy grin, showing off all her gums. "No problem. I would've done it no matter who got called up there."

"Really? If it's not too personal, can I ask why? I mean, You live in District Six."

Rose hesitated, and then smirked. "You'll find out in the interviews."

"Right. Yeah, okay." Ivory turned to leave and then turned back. She threw her arms around Rose before she even realized she had decided to do it. In spite of herself, she was getting a little misty-eyed. She'd come so close to her biggest fear, and at the last minute, she was saved. She had no idea what to do with all the extra time she got back, but she thought this this would be a good start. She tugged off her bracelet and held it out to Rose. "I've had this bracelet since I was eight years old and I haven't taken it off since. But I want you to have it."

"Whoa. Are you sure? I mean, if it's that important to you-"

"It's fine. Because you're going to bring it back to me, when you win."

Rose beamed back at Ivory, and Ivory headed towards the door. Once Rose heard it shut, she slipped the bracelet on her wrist. She couldn't think of a better token.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-**

Rebecca Phoenix sat outside the Justice Building with a rose in her hand. She was missing dinner at the orphanage for this, but since it was the last time she was going to see Jack, she wanted to tell him that she'd always had a little crush on him. She didn't know why it mattered that he knew, except maybe for the fact that it was the only thing she had anymore that was _hers_. The worse her life got, the hungrier she was, the more she liked him. More than anything, it was something . It was her only constant. And he'd be gone now. There was nothing she'd be able to do to stop that.

But she did want to tell him. Finally, a peacekeeper came up to her. She expected to be let in, but instead he just said, "Jack Hound is not taking any visitors." Part of Rebecca wanted to tell him to let her in anyway. Part of Rebecca wanted to yell at him. But she learned a long time ago not to question authority.

So, she turned away, leaving her rose discarded on the ground, wilting away like her hopes. It seemed Jack would never know.


	7. District Seven Reaping

**Another short one, hope that's okay :) I'm gonna try and make these a bit longer as I revise.**

Ebony Grail had never taken out tessarae. Ebony Grail was eighteen years old. Ebony Grail had her name in that bowl seven times. There were 252 girls in her class. Ignoring the tesserae they had taken out, knowing that their names had also been in the bowl 7 times, that meant there were 1764 slips of paper in the reaping bowl. Her name was in there seven times which gives her a 0.03% chance, and that was only out of the eighteen-year-olds. The odds were certainly in her favor.

Ebony repeated this to herself over and over again, hoping the mantra would calm her beating heart. It was her last reaping. So far, the odds have remained in her favor as always. There was no calculating fate, though.

She had plans with her friends to go walking by the riverbed after the reaping, to celebrate their last one. Ebony knew they made plans just to assume that they'd get away free. They'd lost their friend, age fifteen, to the Hunger Games. They all knew that nobody was safe.

But Ebony didn't want to think like that. Not today. Let other people worry. _The odds are in my favor_ , she whispered. _The odds are in my favor. The odds are in my favor. The odds are in my favor._

"Ebony Grail!"

Her eyes snapped open. She'd been the brightest student at arithmetics. After she had finished with the lumber she needed to chop to support her family, she was planning on becoming a teacher. It seemed her dream would be cut horrifically short.

But she remembered tallying something up for her teacher, a really tricky equation, and she was trying to figure it out. But he just sat and told her that she already had figured it out, that there was no solution. It wasn't the numbers' fault that she didn't like the outcome. It was then that she learned the odds didn't always go where she wanted them to.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-**

Ryker Calts' felt psyched out when he saw Ebony walk up to the stage. They'd worked in the fields together for years. Still, he didn't know her that well. But it was always a little jarring to see someone you know get reaped. All of a sudden, everything felt real, and if you felt safe before, you definitely didn't after. The sudden feeling of paranoia that overtook him felt overwhelming. He wanted a name to be called already so he could move on with his life until the next year. After this, he only had one year left.

But the escort did call a name, and suddenly, it was clear that there would be no next year for Ryker at all. Was that real? Did that really just happen? To him? His feet moving in the direction of the stage seemed to indicate that yes, it did happen, it happened to him, and it was most definitely real. As he got closer to the stage, he started to hear his little sister, Julie, wailing. It was her first reaping. She was so scared that morning. The thought that it could have been him instead of her hadn't even crossed her mind.

He looked away. The last thing Ryker needed was to break down in front of the cameras, in front of Panem, and all the sponsors. It really started to sink in then. In the blink of an eye, everyone in Panem knew his name.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-**

"Ryker, please don't go!" Julie buried her face into his chest and he let her cry. His little sister. He'd braided her hair that morning. If he'd known it was going to be the last time he was going to do it, he would've taken his time with it.

"Julie, you're gonna be with mom for awhile, okay?"

Julie extended her hand holding out a small, plastic gem. "This fell off my bracelet this morning. Can you fix it?" He took it, and bit his tongue to stop the tears from spilling over. She was always losing charms from the bracelet. Every time, she'd give it to him, and he'd put the bracelet back together. Every time.

"I'll fix it when I get home. I promise." He slipped the gem into his pocket.

"You're gonna win, though, right?" she asked. Ryker looked down. "You use the axe everyday, you're strong. You're gonna win, right?"

Ryker nodded, without meeting her eye. "Yes, Julie. I'm gonna win."

-::-::-::-::-::-

Ebony pressed the pearl earrings into her ears as she boarded the train. She wondered how on earth her parents managed to save up the money for them, but her heart broke a little bit when she learned that they'd gotten it for her first reaping and saved them all these years so they could be her celebration present, not her token. It was saved for the day she was finally safe. It seemed as if that day would never come now.


	8. District Eight Reaping

Everyone in District Eight hated the Hunger Games. Of course, for the obvious reasons, for the unimaginable loss of two children. But it also meant they had to work twice as hard to make the fabric for the parade. Fairly Summit hated it more than anyone. Her best friend, Kaylee, had been reaped for their first Hunger Games. She was only twelve years old. She didn't even have a chance.

She died in the bloodbath, and Fairly had to watch. Everyone always had to watch. She was crying, reaching for a pack, and then the District Two girl ran her dagger through Kaylee's chest. She became the victor of that year. Fairly had had a really bad feeling the night before the reaping, like she was about to throw up. When Kaylee's name was finally called, her stomach settled instantly.

Now, here she was standing, waiting to hear a name called. Since Kaylee, she hadn't really had many other close friends. She didn't have a little sister, b she'd had the same queasy feeling before the reaping today. So when their escort called, "Ladies first!" Fairly already knew the name she would call before she said it. When she heard her own name, her stomach immediately settled.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-**

Shallow Blitz rarely paid attention to the reaping, but this year, it was different. His father's handprint was still hot on his cheek. He used to try and hide the bruises, but then he realized no one noticed him at all anyway, so what was the use? Sometimes, people would stare, steal a glance towards the beaten kid, but they'd just shake their head and look away again. It wasn't hard to learn that no one cared. After a cursory glance at the audience, he realized his dad hadn't showed. That was probably for the best. Shallow could see him now, still drunk on the couch.

It struck Shallow that he would never see his dad again. That was enough to bring a smile to his face on today of all days. It was strange, how one thing lead to another. Happy family, happy mother. Dad cheats, mom leaves, dad gets drunk every night, dad starts beating his son, son decides to volunteer to die. It seemed so simple when it was displayed like that. Shallow really wanted it to be simple.

And hidden in his heart, his most secret hope: that when he volunteered, his mother would come see him in the Justice Building and he'd get to see her one last time. He didn't even know what he'd do if he saw her, but it had been five years since she'd last spoken with him. Maybe if he said…

"Now for the gentleman."

Shallow had wondered if he'd have the nerve. "I volunteer." But it was the easiest thing he'd done for years.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-**

After Shallow's little display, walking on stage, shaking hands, telling her he hoped she'd win, Fairly felt a little bit on edge. But she wasn't really scared like she'd thought she'd be. She paced around her compartment on the train. Saying goodbye to her family was really hard, but she didn't feel afraid like she knew she should, just kind of sad.

She was a little worried about Shallow, though. She knew she wanted an ally. The arena seemed like a terrible place to be alone in, and most people who had alliances made it farther than the ones on their own, but Shallow didn't really seem interested in making friends. As much as her reason for being inside it sucked, the Justice Building was probably the most beautiful place she'd ever been in. Fairly had a gut feeling that she'd be having that thought a lot in the coming week.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-**

Shallow tapped his foot. He knew his dad wasn't coming. He didn't really care about that. Boredom sat in the pit of his stomach like acid. Boredom on edge. He watched the door, half-flinching every time he thought he heard a noise outside. The hope he'd buried so deep inside him bubbled to the top. If he was going to get what he wanted, it was going to be right now.

After ten minutes passed, he knew she wasn't coming. Shallow stood up. He walked over to the cupboard. Sitting on top were all these little trinkets and decorations. All these fragile, breakable things. He grabbed the glass china doll and threw it on the ground, watching it smash into pieces. He grabbed another glass ornament, this time a cat, but peacekeepers were on him before he could do any damage, so he let it fall softly from his hand, unharmed.

Before he knew it, for the first time in a long time, Shallow was on his knees, heaving with sobs. She wasn't coming. She never was. His mother was gone. The only thing he had dared to hope for was ruined. As they pulled him towards the train, he was momentarily comforted knowing that he only had one week to live. After this disappointment, he didn't really have anything left to live for, anyway.

-::-::-::-::-::-

His dad would wake up two hours later, hungover and miserable, waiting for Shallow to come back from the reaping, only to learn from a neighbor that he was never coming back, ever again.


	9. District Nine Reaping

Ree Joan was one of the few people who didn't dislike the reaping. It wasn't that she enjoyed it either, of course. And she really didn't like the idea of getting chosen. But she liked crowds. It might have been strange, but one thing Ree liked about herself was how startlingly average she was. Average size, average height, hair color that was a relatively common one, but a dull enough color not to catch the sun's light or stick out or be identifiable. She always blended right in.

People thought she was quiet, kept to herself. And yes, that was true. But it also meant people never took notice of her. They were wrong not to. Because Ree was always, always watching. And the secrets she knew because of that made a long list. When someone doesn't think you're there, or even if they just don't think you're listening, there's a lot they can let slide. And even things people don't say, she can tell, just by paying attention.

For example, she could tell their escort hated the Hunger Games. There's a little slip, right between the point where the escort calls out a name and the kid steps forward. It's miniscule, and small, and if Ree hadn't picked up on it when she was standing so close at her first reaping, she may not have noticed at all. But once she picked up on it, it was all she could see.

She caught a spot of blue paint on the back of hand, and instantly tried to wipe it away. She always drew the same thing, and she always painted over it. Sometimes she wondered that if she drew it enough times, if it would stop haunting her. If it might stop being so solid, and just start to feel like a foggy bad dream she'd had as a kid. It hadn't worked. She'd draw _it_ , and then paint a beautiful night sky on top. She'd draw _it_ , and then paint the river at sunset.

Ree had her secrets, too, but nobody except for her had learned them. No one was even looking. That was another benefit of going unnoticed. It was so easy to hide. She was who she always was to everyone else. But she could never pick up a knife, she could never stand the sight of blood - like when her mother cut her thumb while making dinner and Ree had to go sit in the backyard and take deep, deep breaths.

She wasn't always this way. But life happens and people change. Ree had yet to come across someone who didn't have a secret. She let them keep theirs, so what was the problem if she had hers?

It was almost time. Ree held her breath, waiting for the moment and - "Ree Joan." There, right there, that slip.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Zeek Dublet was more terrified than he had ever been in his entire life. He was only twelve. His brother, Corey, had assured him that his name wouldn't get called, but Zeek could bet that the girl on stage thought that, too. Silent tears rolled down her face, and her eyes were shut. When the escort asked how old she was, she mumbled fourteen. That was only two years older than he was.

He was starting to feel a little queasy. Zeek tried to look through the crowd to find Corey, but he couldn't spot him behind all the heads. "Now for the gentlemen!" He tried not to listen, he tried to tell himself that in a minute, it would be over. "Zeek Dublet!"

The world slammed to a stop. Zeek could hear someone screaming, but he didn't register that it was him. There were arms wrapping around him, carrying him towards the stage. "Help! Corey, help me! No, I don't wanna go!" He knew he was shrieking now, but he couldn't stop. Part of him thought that if he yelled enough, they'd let him stay. Corey promised him that he'd be safe. He'd _promised_.

He lied. He finally spotted Corey in the crowd, frozen in the audience, eyes round in shock. But Corey wasn't going to save Zeek. No one was.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

In the Justice Building, Corey couldn't stop crying. It was weird. The moment Zeek was offstage, away from all the prying eyes of the relieved children who had been spared, he felt himself calm a little bit. But Corey's crying threatened to unlodge that peace. He had never seen Corey cry.

"I'm sorry, I should've -" He was crying so hard, Zeek could barely tell what he was saying. "I should've volunteered, it shouldn't be you."

Zeek didn't know what to say. He let himself be pulled into a clumsy hug. He tried to remind himself that his brother was just a kid too, that he was only a year older than the fourteen-year-old girl who'd just been reaped. He wanted to be selfless, to tell his brother that it was okay that it was him instead, but in the moment, Zeek would have given anything not to go, to be safe a little bit longer. So he didn't say anything He just let himself be held by his big brother, and tried to remind himself that they loved each other. After a few moments of this, Zeek remembered the love, and he felt it, so strongly, that Zeek began to cry again.


	10. District Ten Reaping

Youngly Cart studied her shoes during the reaping, as she rocked absent-mindedly back and forth on the balls of her feet. They were her only pair that wasn't scuffed up. She only used them for the reapings. Youngly had always found the Hunger Games interesting, though she'd like to see it up close. Ever since her parents died, Youngly had become fascinated with death. Some call it morbid. Most call it unnatural. Youngly calls it - well, she calls it normal.

There were worse ways to grieve. And hell, why shouldn't it be normal? Doesn't the entire nation cheer on a fight for the death every year? What did they expect to happen?

It was her last reaping. Youngly was a little bit bummed about it, too. She was so curious about what it would be like. Watching it wasn't enough, but it had never crossed her mind to volunteer. Young's motto was to let whatever happened to her happen. If she died, she died. If she lived, she lived. No one had control over anything anyway. Life was more interesting if you watched.

And yet, there were still things she wanted. So when her name was called, Youngly was pleased. She even smiled a little bit. But, though Youngly wasn't good at reading what was normal and what wasn't, she knew that you weren't supposed to be happy to be in the Hunger Games.

So, she tried to slap a solemn expression on her face, but she couldn't help it. For the first time in ages, Young felt alive.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

As soon as Warden Sandler's name was called, his first gut expression was one of shock and disbelief. But within a moment, his well-practiced death glare was pasted on, and he stared down the audience on his way up to the stage. He went over his odds in his head. He worked for a butcher shop, so we was good with knives. Cutting up people couldn't be too different from cutting up meat, right? Please, let him be right.

He started to think of his little sister, Kari, but stopped himself. Tears and intimidation didn't mix, and Warden had already picked the route he was going with.

He was really large for his age, and of course, he'd had his death glare down for ages. Always smelling like dead meat never helped, either, so Warden didn't really have a lot of friends. That was alright. He wouldn't need friends in the arena. No allies, no consequences. When the escort asked his age, he muttered "seventeen," without thinking about it too deeply. He was too far gone. There were so many ways to play this, so many rules he'd have to follow, and he had to make sure he knew all of them. The wheels in his head were turning, turning, turning, and they wouldn't stop.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Youngly skipped the Justice Building. It wasn't like she had any family to say goodbye to. No, Youngly just wanted to get to the excitement, skip ahead to the Capitol, the parade, the training. The bloodbath, specifically. There was nothing left for her in District Ten.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

When Kari came into the room, Warden felt himself start to break down. She ran over to him and started punching his chest, over and over, with her tiny little fists, and Warden grabbed them and held them together so she couldn't move until eventually she dissolved into tears.

"Please don't go. Please don't go," she cried. Warden could feel his a throbbing pain in his chest, as if his body was trying to tell him how wrong everything was, like he didn't already know. She was eight years old, that was all, and she was losing her big brother before she even really knew what that meant. "Promise you're gonna come back, promise?" Warden bit back a sob as he nodded.

"No matter what. You'll see me soon." He ruffled her hair for what he realized was probably the last time. "I'm gonna come back, Kari." And then, after only a moment more the peacekeepers dragged her out while her hands were outstretched, calling for her big brother. The knife in his heart twisted.

He couldn't think of anything more unfair than the Games. He hadn't even realized how terrible they were. He'd known, but hadn't realized, hadn't truly felt it, but now that they were happening to him - he couldn't think about that. If he didn't focus, he didn't have a chance at all.

When he left the building, he saw Young waving out the train window and beaming at the cameras. Well, no matter what happened, it was going to be interesting.


	11. District Eleven Reaping

Zealya Vet didn't like to speak unless she was spoken to. She did not like to talk out of turn. It was easier to get your work done that way. And she did a lot of good work for her family, but she still had to take tesserae out this year. She knew that hurt her chances, but she also knew that there were some people who never took out tesserae and got chosen, and there were some who took it out every year and never got picked. Zealya didn't know if she believed in fate, but she did believe in luck, and she knew all the kids in the district were slaves to it today.

Zealya hated her district. Once you made it past the reapings alive, it seemed that all you did was wait for death. Life became boring. On the other hand, save for the reapings, life now wasn't very interesting, either. It just felt like she was sleepwalking. And the worst part was that there was no way out. It wasn't like she could leave. And shaking things up was only a way to get yourself shot by the trigger happy Peacekeepers. All there was, was this: Speak when spoken to. Do your work. Live a Capitol approved life.

The reaping was one of the only times of the year where things were shaken up a little bit. Had it been a little bit less horrible, maybe Zealya could have appreciated the variation. But being what it was, Zealya would take the mundane. All the kids waited to start life and make plans as soon as they turned nineteen, as soon as they knew they were safe. But now, there was only the dreaded waiting, and the heavy silence before a name was called.

Zealya felt like her whole life was about waiting for _something_ to happen, something exciting, and yet, when her name was called, the only thing Zealya wanted to take that wish back. As she started the walk up to the platform, all she could do was mourn the fact that she was never going to get to the boring part of life.

She'd never get to sit on a rocking chair on the front porch and knit, while the sun started to set in the east. She'd never get to meet someone, fall in love with them, start a family and raise kids, and let that be the greatest thing she could ever have done. Sh wouldn't ever read the paper, or watch the Games on television, either, knowing she was safe. She was going to die at seventeen.

And then, upon realizing she had been wasting her life waiting, without ever really getting the chance to live it, and that now her life was almost definitely over, Zealya started to cry.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Reel Carr still felt too new to the entire reaping experience. He was strong, he was smart, but he was thirteen. He barely remembered his first reaping. He'd been so sleep deprived the night before, staying up late fretting about it, and when it actually came, he was so tightly wound with nerves that as soon as a different name was called, he wiped the whole thing clean from his mind. He wanted that relief again. Even through his limited memory of the reaping itself, he remembered in clear definition how that relief washed through his whole body, guaranteeing another year of safety. He really hoped this year was the same.

The way Reel saw it, none of the twelve and thirteen year olds ever stood a chance, so why put them in the mix? Only one victor had been thirteen in history. That should have told somebody something. He knew that just a year later, when he was fourteen, and just that much stronger, he would actually have stood a chance to win.

But time has a funny way of doing what it wants. When his name was called, Reel wanted to scream and cry and shout and let someone have to pick him up from off the floor, let a grown up deal with it, but not him. But Reel knew that if he was going to do well, he'd need sponsors. Sponsors wouldn't vote for a mess.

After all, there had been one thirteen-year-old victor. Why not two?

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

When Reel and Zealya passed each other on the train, both their eyes were red-rimmed. They glanced at each other, embarrassed. Four year difference, but they were headed for the same fate. Buried in the ground before their time. Murdered. Reel wanted to reach out and say something to Zealya. Zealya wanted to take Reel's hand and talk to him, tell him everything was going to be okay so she'd believe it herself.

But what was the point? In the end, only one of them could be left standing. Likely, neither of them would be. So they just exchanged tight-lipped smiles and continued walking, already allies, already enemies, but no longer strangers.


	12. District Twelve Reaping

Ellie Yvette stood twitch-twitch-twitching in the fifteen-year-old section. She remembered standing there three years ago. Her first reaping. She was so, so, so scared. But it wasn't her. It was him, him, him. Her older brother would have been twenty. Instead, he was dead, dead, dead. She twitched again.

People were looking at her. She wanted them to look away, away, away. The lady in front was calling out a name and Ellie covered her ears. She didn't like this part. Humming always helped. What did Rett used to hum? That song about the sunshine. That was a good, good, good song.

Someone poked her sharply in the back. "Ellie, they called your name. Go!" Ow, ow, ow. She glared at them as evilly as she could, and was almost surprised they didn't drop dead on the spot. But then someone else grabbed her arm and pushed her out into the middle of the walkway. The lady was saying her name. She was very, very, very ugly.

Ellie walked up the steps, one-step, two-step, three-step. The lady asked her a question, but Ellie was too busy looking at her eyebrows. They looked funny, all arched above her head, like she was really, really, really surprised. She laughed. And then she looked at everyone look-look-looking at her. And then, she cried, cried, cried.

She covered her ears again and started humming a different song, a happier song. A boy was walking toward the stage, wobbling a little bit. That was funny, but people looked at her last time she laughed. She didn't like that. So she stayed quiet.

"How old are you?" the lady asks him.

"S-sixteen."

And then the boy shoves his hand at her, like he's going to hit her. Normally, Rett would come protect her. But Rett was gone, gone, gone. He was never coming back. So she grabbed the hand, because that seemed like what she was supposed to do. What else?

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Ash Puttle stood in the Justice Building trying valiantly not to cry. Life hadn't always been easy for him, and he'd really, really thought that maybe - just maybe - he'd be saved. His sister ran in, throwing her arms around him. "Ash!"

"A-Abbey!"

"You're fine. You're okay, you're fine." She'd just passed her last reaping. She was free. She was safe. The same however, couldn't be said for him. He rubbed his scar, the one that still ached. He hadn't managed to break that habit yet. He supposed he never would now. Abbey gently took his hand and pried it off the scar, running over the ridge with her thumb. "Forget about that. He can't hurt you anymore. Grandfather is dead, now. You are still alive. And you," she said, eyes glistening with tears, "are going to stay that way. No matter what, right?"

"B-but, I'm not like you, A-abbey. I-I can't defend m-myself." His stutter started to act up even worse, like it did whenever he got stressed. Ever since the abuse started, he had shrunk into himself. And speaking was just another way of making himself known. His body and his brain seemed to agree that it was better for Ash to stay silent. So now, even now that his abuser had died, whenever Ash spoke, he stuttered.

"You have to try." She pulled a silver chain from her pocket and Ash recoiled at the sight of it. "This is going to be your token."

"N-no, I don't want it, that's G-Grandfather's."

"Hold onto that. He tried so hard to hurt us both, and we're still here. C'mon, Ash, please. You have been through too much to die now. And besides," she said, giving him the weakest attempt at a smile he'd ever seen, "you can't leave me alone here, right?"

He didn't know what to say to that. There weren't any words that could tell her how much she meant to him, there was nothing that would be able to describe how dear she was to him. Even if there were, Ash wouldn't know them. So he pulled her close and hoped that she already knew everything he wanted to tell her.

He was scared. He was really scared. But he would do anything for his sister. And if she wanted him to fight, then he'd have to do that. There hadn't been a victor since Haymitch Abernathy, now the town's drunk. The odds weren't promising. But when his sister pulled away, crying freely now, and asked him to come home, he said he would.

It was a lie, most likely. Most definitely, it was. But it wasn't like he had anything else to lose. If he tried, he at least had a chance at winning. Giving up meant death. If he tried, and failed, the outcome was still the same. God. It didn't feel real. He wasn't supposed to be planning his survival plan today. He was supposed to go home.

But once Abbey disappeared behind the heavy wood doors and the escort walked him to the train, Ash tried to reassure himself that he would keep his promise. He tried to convince himself that he would come home again.


	13. Tribute List

**hiya hiya! we have officially finished with all the reapings, and oh my, i'm so happy. not that those aren't fun, but i think it's a good deal more interesting when we have all 24 together, no? no pressure of course, but i'm so excited to hear any theories you have, or if you've selected a favorite character yet!**

 **anyways, i do want to issue a fair warning that once the games start, it's going to be brutal. i assume you know what you're in for with the hunger games and all, but i don't exactly wrap things up nicely for pretty much any character, and they don't always get the closure that they might in a happier world. wanted to ensure that was clear before heading in, haha.**

 **but i thought for a point of reference, so you can keep track of all the characters, i would post the tribute list, so here it is!**

District 1: Starla Weilder & Xavier Colmer

District 2: Sasha Dementor & Steller Hart

District 3: Hazel Knives & Anchora Griffin

District 4: Amethyst Dawn & Wright Geon

District 5: Ari Salt & Zender Que

District 6: Rose Alves & Jack Hound

District 7: Ebony Grail & Ryker Calt

District 8: Fairly Summit & Shallow Blitz

District 9: Ree Joan & Zeek Dublets

District 10: Youngly Cart & Warden Sandler

District 11: Zealya Vet & Reel Carr

District 12: Ellie Yvette & Ash Puttle

 **happy reading you guys! expect an update at this time tomorrow!**


	14. Chariot Rides

The crowd waited on bated breath the moment President Snow's speech ended. For once, they didn't really care what he had to say. Any moment now, the chariots would come out, with the tributes in them. Their appearances would determine the early fan favorites. Some people were already sold on a certain kid after the reaping - Xavier Colmer was certainly popular - but it was here that the opinions really started to form.

For a moment, all was silent and dark. Then, finally, in a flash of light, District One's chariot came bolting out. Xavier Colmer was grinning from ear to ear, waving and blowing kisses with one hand. Starla Weilder was far more shy, smiling with her lips pressed together and waving at the crowd. Both of them were decked out in blues and purples swirled together. There was tinsel woven into their hair and Starla wore a rather large and heavy-looking headpiece, dangerously close to tipping her over. And low inside the carriage, where the audience couldn't see, their pinkies were linked.

Sasha and Steller rode out next, smiling wide and bright. This year, they'd been dressed as industrial workers, just like usual. It was really an excuse for Steller to go shirtless, bare chest rubbed with oil to make him shine under the lights. Sasha catches a rose thrown from somewhere in the crowd. She smiles, gives it a kiss and throws it back out. Steller is slightly more reserved, waving and smiling. The aloofness he presented only tempted the audience more, and the screams grew louder as their chariot passed by.

Hazel and Anchora rolled out next, both looking vaguely nervous. Their hair was crimped so it looked like they'd both been electrocuted, a joke that the audience found funny, but perhaps may have been a bit too morbid considering the circumstances. As the cheers grew louder, Hazel and Anchora grew a little more comfortable until the lights ahead of them went out and their chariot stopped. For a moment, everything was silent. And then Anchora and Hazel started _glowing_. Their hair had been painted with green streaks, and once the lights went out, they lit up like glow sticks, while their clothes shone so bright the entire area around them was brightly lit. They smiled freely now, their white teeth glowing in the darkness.

Amy and Wright paled in comparison. District Four was usually the easiest to dress. They come out in mermaid costumes and the crowd goes crazy. The stylist this year went for a… different choice. They were dressed in large plush shrimp costumes. Amy's smile was feeble and pasted on, and who could blame her? Every couple of seconds, Wright beat on his chest and let out a war cry. As if even the horses could tell how bad the costumes were, they sped up, leading straight into District Five.

As usual, their outfits were underwhelming. They had blue streaks lit up down their clothes, and that was about it. After following District Three, they really couldn't expect to outdo them. But the crowd was screaming anyway. Ari was very pretty, but she was nothing compared to Zender. Word was spreading fast that he was the hottest tribute since Finnick Odair. Zender seemed to own it, doling out a wink or two to the audience, blowing kisses, and smiling so large his face seemed to split in half.

District Six was dressed as flight attendants. Rose seemed to be trying to make the best of it while Jack didn't care at all. He was looking around, dazed-looking, as if he couldn't quite believe where he was. He didn't seem to notice the audience was there. The audience didn't seem to notice he was there, either.

District Seven were lumberjacks. Usually it was either lumberjacks or trees, but either way, they didn't make much of an impression. With the push of a button, Ryker and Ebony managed to get a tree to pop up, so they could pretend to chop it down. It was around here the audience usually got antsy. With the careers gone, the crowd cared less and less, but they were waiting on bated breath for the one stylist.

District Eight rolled out, dress entirely in white. Normally, being the textiles district, they were dressed in every color the stylist could find, but this year was different. Fairly plucked a purple rose from the carriage and pulled it through her dress. A yellow one, a red one, a green one, until she was a rainbow made of flowers. She tried to push some through Shallow's suit, but he bat her away, stubbornly looking away from the crowd. She blew one last kiss to the audience before her chariot parked.

District Nine came out a beat too late. Everyone noticed, though no one cared. The stylist, however, would pay for it later. Ree stood, dressed as a farmer just like they were every year. Her face was blank and she was glancing over everyone in the crowd, scanning faces. A collective shudder seemed to run through the audience. Zeek faded into the background, looking too scared to be there.

District Ten came out, dressed as cows. By then, the audience was almost completely lost, dissolving into side conversations. Young and Warden both seemed entirely disengaged, uninterested. Young was saying something to Warden who seemed to very determinedly be ignoring her, though he did shudder a little. As District Eleven pulled up, the audience was ready to move on.

They looked nice. With green jumpsuits and artificial berries sewn into it, it was markedly better than previous years. Zealya and Reel waved politely. But even they seemed to notice that no one was paying attention. Everyone held their breath.

District Twelve pulled out. Everyone wanted to know what Cinna would do next. Despite only ever having one victor, District Twelve claimed their fame by having the best stylist in the Capitol. They came out in white dresses costumes, red lining. The audience waited for more, knowing that with Cinna, there was always more. After a moment, Ash nudged Ellie. She covered her ears and started saying something, but the audience couldn't hear. He carefully pulled her hands away from her head and whispered something else. Slowly, at the same time, they began to spin. Their costumes instantly went up in flames, the white chipping away into long, silky black jumpsuits, sparks flying off. After a moment of stunned silence, the audience leapt up into thunderous applause. Cinna had done it again. In reality, after watching child after child come into his care, and die, he'd fallen into a mindless pattern. But something about District Twelve being the underdogs, but having the flashiest costume, managed to keep the audience happy.

It was all very distracting, the costumes and the smiles, and the horses with braided manes. But the twenty-four kids in the chariots couldn't forget. Whether they were nerves of excitement or fear, or horror, or anticipation, not one of their minds were with the audience. Their minds were with the Games.


	15. Training: Day One

Tensions were running high on the first day of training. Going out in front of the crowds, in front of the people who could decide if they lived or died at the slightest whim - because one of them had freckles, because this one winked in their direction, because one looked like their friend, Xenia - that made it all terribly, terribly real.

And some of them already knew what kind of impression they'd made. Warden Sandler pasted his death glare on his face before walking through the doors. It didn't matter what he'd done - they sent him out in a goddamned cow costume. How was he going to get any sponsors now? How was anyone supposed to take him seriously? He knew he would have to train hard to even the score, get at least an 8 for anyone to even look his way. But there'd be time for that.

Coming into the training center, Warden had a different motive. He wanted to find an ally. He'd debated for a while whether he wanted one or not. There was more power in numbers, but of course in the arena, an ally could turn on you at any moment, while you're asleep, while your back is turned - and then there are those rare situations where the final two are allies. They either rip each other to shreds immediately or both try and let the other live. Those were always the hardest to watch.

But though his worries were valid ones, they didn't matter to Warden. He wasn't actually trying to form a stronger alliance. Though he wouldn't admit it to anyone, he just didn't wanted to be alone when - if - he died. And he already knew who he wanted. Immediately, Warden spotted Reel by the edible plants station, faced screwed up in concentration. His mind flashed to his little sister, Kari. He started to make his way over.

Reel knew there was a lot of ground to cover, and not a lot of time, but he couldn't help but revert to the thing he knew the best. After all, he was from the Agriculture district. Of course he already knew which plants were edible and which weren't. That wasn't the point. No one was at the station. He thought maybe that would make it easier, starting out. He'd always figured that if he _was_ reaped, it would be when he was at least sixteen. Not thirteen years old, not two years in to being of age.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the District Ten boy head his way - his name started with a W, maybe? He didn't look when the boy sat down, but Reel heard him. _Warden_ , Reel thought. _I think it's Warden._ He shot a quick glance and then looked away. Warden was intimidating, to say the least. And Reel didn't want to make any enemies, not this early, not with someone like Warden. He stayed silent, praying that Warden would get up and leave.

Reel's hands froze over a type of leaf - his brain froze, too, or he'd be able to tell which one it was - and he didn't dare even breathe. He knew Warden couldn't hurt him. Not here, not yet, anyway. But still, the fear was so overwhelming he felt like everybody could tell. He felt a hand on his shoulder and he jumped back, finally meeting Warden's eyes. Quickly, Warden pulled his hand away. It might have been meant to be reassuring, though Reel couldn't see why Warden would try to do that. He'd seen him walking around with that glare on his face, his hands clenching and unclenching, like there so was so much anger in him that he just couldn't wait to get to the arena and get his hands on everything. So, to Reel, all he could feel was a menacing threat.

He backed away, clumsily getting to his feet, kicking over some of the berry stacks by accident. "Please - please don't hurt me," he said, and quickly turned away.

Warden's face hardened. He looked around, glaring at everyone who dared to look his direction. Across the room, Reel sat down over at camouflage station and didn't move for a long time.

So, Warden's first attempt at forming an alliance didn't go so well. No problem. Maybe he needed to ease up on the whole tough-guy act. At this point, it was all he had. But if he wanted an alliance…

He was thinking either Amy or Zeek, and since he saw Zeek first, he went over to him, taking care that his glare was softened this time. "Hey," he said, settling in next to him. Zeek startled, eyes flickering up to Warden, frightenedly. "I'm not going to hurt you, you know."

Zeek smiled, only a little nervously. "I know. We're not allowed." Warden chuckled a little. Zeek started to say something, then seemed to lose his nerve. Warden seized his opportunity.

"You know how to start a fire?" Slowly, Zeek shook his head. "Me neither. Come on." He rested his hand on Zeek's shoulder, something he'd down with Kari so many times that it was almost second nature. Suddenly, he was filled with a grief so heavy and thick that he felt he couldn't stay standing. But he did. He pulled Zeek along with him to fire-starting. Without even a word about it between them, both of them knew, the first alliance had been forged.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

"Okay, Starla," Xavier leaned against the wall, looking at her, half-smirking. "You got anything good?" The careers had just spent the first hour of training showing off. Starla, a tentative member - by extension of Xavier - had hung back, watching. Just barely, he saw her face flicker. She nodded, too strongly.

Starla walked to the knife rack, picking up a large, but thin one. She'd trained with knives back in District One, but she'd never really been very good. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Sasha's face contort into an almost malicious smile, like she was just waiting for Starla to mess up. Starla gulped. She positioned her knife, remembering all she'd been taught. And then, she sent it whizzing through the ear. It hit the board with a satisfying thud.

She'd hit the ear. Possibly even just nicked it. Sasha laughed, and Starla's cheeks grew warm. She felt a hand touch her wrist. "Here," Xavier said, smiling gently now, "try this one." She nodded, imbued with only a little more confidence.

Straight into the heart. Though she knew it was probably just luck, Starla felt a fluttering in her heart, a sense of pride. She noted Sasha scowling. But she still wanted to prove herself. With allies who could turn on you in a minute - as the careers were apt to do - you had to be useful.

Wordlessly, she grabbed Xavier by the wrist, leading him to fire-starting. She barely had to concentrate on this one; within a minute, the fire was blazing. The instructor praised her, and she moved on, noticing the rest of the careers following her from a distance.

Poisonous berries. For this one, Starla turned her mind off, letting her instincts take over. She'd always excelled at memorization, and this station was one she'd never had any trouble with. She asked the instructor to mix the berries together for her to sort. She let her hands do the work, losing herself in the task. It came as naturally to her as shurikens must to Sasha, or swords to Steller. After 30 seconds, she was done.

Xavier stared at her, dumbfounded. The pride swelling up in her before was nothing compared to now, seeing all the impressed looks on their faces, even Sasha's. "You guys can do the dirty work. I'll keep us alive." And with that, she got to her feet and headed over to the obstacle course. Best get learning - the task she just performed will only hold their attention so long.

Behind her, Xavier was shaking his head, a slow smile starting to spread across his face. Only two and a half days in, and this girl kept surprising him.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Steller stared blankly as the last dagger sank into the dummy's heart. He'd hit the head, and the gut, already. It was so much easier training back home. Though he knew he'd have to face this eventually, all that ran through his mind was that, in one week, the dummy wouldn't be a dummy anymore. It would be a child. With a home, a family, someone who's mom tucked them into bed at night, someone who had a little sister waiting for them to return, someone living and breathing and _real_ \- it would be up to him to put an end to all of that.

But none of that mattered anymore. These children would be the last sacrifice Panem would have to make. President Snow was not going to take any more. He pulled away from the knife station and headed to simulation.

When they said simulation, they weren't kidding. The robots were animated to look like the tributes from this year. He was going to be killing real people. There was no way around that. He'd better start getting used to it. Ellie Yvette from District 12 was his first victim. He sank a knife into her heart, and she let out a sputtering breath before crumbling over. Zeek, next, the small one. Then Ryker, Ash, then Starla, Xavier until the only one left was Sasha. He pushed his knife through her head, watched her keel over. Steller stood, looking over all the robots lying lifeless on the floor. His knife was clean.

His hands were clean, too. For now, at least.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Contrary to her last name, Hazel Knives was no good at throwing them. Bow and arrow wasn't really her thing, either, and boomerang - not quite. She didn't even bother with shurikens. And Anchora wasn't doing much better. But, despite the circumstances, despite the stakes, Hazel couldn't bring herself to care too much. She was focusing on one thing at a time, and right then, she was just letting herself be comforted by the fact that she'd have an ally. An ally that she'd known known for years, that she could trust.

And besides, so what if everyone had seen them fail at pretty much every weapon they'd tried? There was a station that was mainly empty called Weaponry Through Technology. Anchora and Hazel had been spending most of their time there. They knew that all the careers were expecting them to try and use their District's strength. They were counting on that.

Hazel didn't care if she got a bad training score. District Three hadn't had a victor in twenty years. There were private training session times. And those proved to be quite useful, really. No tributes around to see your strengths or your weaknesses. With low scores, they were in the perfect position to slip right under everyone's radar. Contrary to her last name, Hazel was no good with Knives.

But it turned out, she was damn good with a sword.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Unlike Wright, it was immediately made clear that Amy was _not_ joining the careers. She shrugged this off. What was the point of that protection? It would only last a little while. Besides, Amy didn't want to kill people. She knew she would have to, she wasn't stupid, but careers made it seem like it would be _fun_. Like a sport, like a… game. Amy wasn't interested in playing. This was life or death, and for her, it would be treated as such.

She'd floated around from station to station, but mainly, she'd spent her time at the bow and arrow station. She had a knack for it. Who knew? If she could perfect it, then maybe, just maybe, she'd have a fighting chance. A twelve-year-old had never won the Games before, but she could be the first. And after her shrimp costume at the parade, well… she could use a good training score.

Her mentors were helping, too. Finnick wasn't trying to hide that she was his favorite in the slightest. Wright, being oblivious, barely noticed. But Finnick would slip her sugar cubes under the table, and come into her room to give her advice, answer questions, help her out. And Mags was a comforting presence. Amy's grandmother had died before she was born, so she'd always imagined what it would be like to have one. She had figured it would be something like that.

 _Thunk_. The arrow hit the target, dead-center. Again. Maybe she did have a chance after all.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

The first day was almost over, and Ari Salt had barely touched weapons. In fact, she hadn't gone near them at all. She'd spent her time focused on the survival aspects of the arena. And she'd spent a considerable amount of time with poison berries… Just in case. Eric kept popping up in the back of her mind, the promise he'd asked her to make to him, the promise she had planned to break before his words even left his mouth.

So far, she'd been to firestarting and cornucopia simulation, but aside from poisonous berries, the stations she'd spent the most time at were agility and speed. Athena hadn't killed anyone, and she'd survived. All Ari wanted was to live long enough to say her goodbyes, not on camera, not to the world. Death was meant to be a private thing. If she was deprived of that, then she'd have to make do with accepting it in her head, the one place the Capitol couldn't reach. And most of all, she didn't want her death to be painful.

Was there anything so wrong with that? One berry, and you slip away. And yet, part of her couldn't help but think about Athena's final movements. Her hands were clean until the very end. She'd find somewhere to hide, somewhere to wait everything out, let everybody else pick each other off. Athena didn't even have sponsors. Ari could change that for herself. She was making peace with her death, slowly and surely, but a piece of her hoped that maybe, just maybe, she could pull this off.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Rose knew that getting cocky would only hurt her in the end, but she couldn't help but feel she was the smartest one here. As predicted, the careers spent all their time by the weapons. Rose went to fire-starting, poisonous berries, simulation, camouflage. What was the point in showing off what you already knew how to do? In her mind, she'd have plenty of time to show off in the arena. This time was for learning. She almost laughed at the idea of one of them kicking the bucket by grabbing the wrong fruit from a tree after gutting a tribute inside out. It had been known to happen before.

It was true that she thought the careers were, for lack of a better word, idiots. But it was also true that she needed them. As confidently as she could muster, she walked up to them and stopped, dead in her tracks, half-frozen. They kept training for a moment, but finally, the District Two girl, Sasha, turned around. Rose could feel the hostility pulsing through her.

"What?" she asked Rose. And just like that, Rose came to life.

"I want to join your alliance."

"You what?"

"I'm smart, and I can fight. I know how to hunt, and I can get us sponsors -"

"Look, I don't care if you volunteered. You're from District Six. You're not smart, Rosie. You just have a death wish." Sasha pointedly turned away. Rose wrinkled her nose at the nickname.

"Hey, hang on -" Starla started to interject but Sasha cut her off without even looking at her.

"Star, you know what happened last time the careers let someone from another District into their alliance? They ended up with a knife in their back. Literally." Sasha turned around again, effectively ending the conversation. She took a shuriken and launched it towards the target. It hit dead center with a frightening amount of accuracy.

Steller's eyes lingered on Rose. "Why _did_ you volunteer?"

Rose's eyes widened. She hadn't expected this question. "I - I can't tell yet, I'm -"

"Look," Steller said, shaking his head. "If you don't trust us, we can't trust you." Then he turned around, too. Then Xavier, then finally, Starla.

Inside, Rose's blood was boiling. She grabbed a spear and two throwing knives - the hardest ones to maneuver. Just before Sasha started throwing she stepped in front of her. Instead of a flash of anger, she saw almost a flash of excitement in Sasha's eyes. A challenge. Well, if that was what Sasha wanted, Rose was more than happy to oblige.

She threw the spear harder than she'd ever thrown a weapon. It blew straight through the target. She shut her eyes tight, taking great care to make sure everyone knew she was going in blind. Then she took aim with her knives. When she opened her eyes, she saw the knives hit just where she wanted them to. One just between the eyes, one in the gut. The spear was still stuck in the heart.

Sasha wasn't smirking now. Rose walked up to her, got dangerously close to her face and whispered, "You have _no_ idea who you're dealing with." The smirk returned to Sasha's face, but Rose could feel it - she was scared. She should be.

Rose turned on her heel and headed towards lunch. Little "Rosie" might prove them wrong yet.


	16. Training: Day Two

Even though Ebony hadn't been talking to anyone at all during training, she could still feel the tension in the air from yesterday return full force today. Already, she could see the alliances forming. Zeek and Warden had spent all day together, which at first took Ebony by surprise, judging by Warden's constant glare, but oddly enough, he seemed to be a natural with kids.

Like every year, the careers were a pack, allied together without a word of discussion. Ebony hadn't been speaking to anyone except for the trainers. She wasn't here to make friends or attachments. She'd been trying to cover as much ground as possible - weapons, edible berries and plants, fire-starting, and even fishing. The station that was proving to be most helpful so far was simulation. All she had to do was dive in, grab an axe and a pack and she'd be set.

She'd gone to hand-to-hand combat, knot-tying, and her favorite, agility. Most of the time she spent there was spent side-by-side in silence with Ari, the District Five girl, who seemed to live at the station. Now, she was at knot-tying again, trying to get better control of her snares. She only looked up when she felt someone sit down next to her.

"Hey." Ryker was smiling down at her, grabbing a rope and twirling it absent-mindedly. Ebony smiled back at him.

"Hey," she said, looking back down at her rope.

"So, I was thinking… When we get to the arena, if you…" He faltered for a moment. For the past few days, having no one else, she and Ryker became closer than they'd been back in the district. He had become her friend. And in the time that she'd been getting to know him, she knew that he'd never been one for nervousness. He gave a little shake of his head and continued on with more confidence. "I thought maybe we should start by grabbing things from the Cornucopia. I could do weapons, you could do packs, and then we could go for shelter -"

"Ryker," Ebony cut him off. He stopped and then looked down at his hands, almost guiltily. "I'm sorry, but -"

"No, it's fine." He started to leave, but Ebony grabbed his arm.

"Just let me explain -"

"Ebony, I get it."

"Look, I don't wanna be there to see you die," she said, finally, grabbing his arm even tighter. Something in his face softened for a moment.

"Really, Ebony, it's okay," he said, and then he pulled his arm away. As Ebony walked away, she realized her hand was still reaching out to where his arm was just moments ago. She also realized she hadn't told him the full truth. It wasn't just him she didn't want to see die. She didn't want to see anybody die. But she didn't have a choice about that. However, Ebony figured it would be better if it wasn't a friend.

She looked down at her rope. Somehow, without even noticing, she'd finally made the perfect knot.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Ryker walked away from Ebony half-embarrassed and half-worried. He didn't know her that well, that was true. But Ryker just didn't want to die alone. Was that really too much to ask? No, he didn't blame her. But he didn't know anyone else either. He'd wasted time thinking she was a safe bet, and now, he could be on his own. And though his mentors had told him it was dumb, that it could only lead to pain, he didn't just want an ally. He wanted a friend. And the first person - besides Ebony - he could think of that he might be able to get along with, for whatever reason, was Ellie.

Ryker didn't even know if he could protect himself, but he thought that maybe there was a chance he could protect her. He spotted her at the snare-setting station, barely fiddling with a snare already made for her. As soon as he started to sit down, her head snapped in his direction, and her frightened eyes met his. She slowly started backing away. Ryker was wondering what he might have gotten himself into.

"I'm not going to hurt you." She shook her head. "No, I - I want to be your ally." She froze for a moment, as if considering this, and then without any warning, she burst into tears. Ryker tried to put a hand on her shoulder, but at this, her sobs only grew louder. From nowhere, the District 12 boy showed up. _His name is Ash_ , Ryker recalled.

Ash looked at Ryker, accusingly. "Wh-What did you s-say to her?"

"I just asked her to be my ally, I didn't realize…" Ryker trailed off when he saw the doubt turn to suspicion. It was probably useless anyway. Ash turned his back on Ryker and extended a hand to Ellie, who took it easily.

"C-C'mon, Ellie."

Ryker watched them go for a minute and then lay his head down in his hands. Somehow, he didn't feel like training anymore.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Shallow wished they could just go straight to the games. He wanted to skip all the training, and waiting, and planning. Jump straight to the bloodbath? He was fine with that. More importantly, Fairly was busy being stubbornly likable, and Shallow was trying to stubbornly dislike everyone he saw. She was nice to him, no matter how much or how rudely he brushed her off. So when he felt a tap on his shoulder, that was who he'd expected to see. He didn't expect to see Youngly Cart, District 10's tribute, the girl that smiled when she was reaped. He raised an eyebrow in question, but she just sat down.

They were at shelter-building. It was pretty useless to him - like he'd stick around long enough to need shelter - but it was the only station empty at the time. He could feel her staring at him. "Wanna hear a story?" He rolled his eyes.

"Shouldn't you be training right now?"

"Shouldn't you?" she said right back, eyeing his half-assed shelter, rocks and leaves lazily strung together.

He rolled his eyes again, but conceded. "Let's just say I don't really want to win." Out of the corner of his eye, Shallow thought he could see Youngly smile.

"Guess we have something in common, then." Surprised, his head snapped towards her. He follow her gaze to see her hand, outstretched towards him. In her eyes, she was asking a question. He grabbed her hand, answering it. _Allies_. Why the hell not?

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Ree had been focusing on the Gauntlet for her first day and a half. It was sort of an obstacle course, almost like agility, and Ree was getting really good at it. But truth be told, she was only there in order to keep herself away from the one place she didn't want to go - Weapons.

Ree usually found any excuse to avoid going near a knife, near anything that could kill, really. But this time, not facing her fears could kill her. And time was running out. So, she faced the music and headed toward the knife rack. Some of the careers eyed her, but they looked away. People had been going in and out of their territory all day. Eventually, they started to tune it out.

Ree reached out her hand to the stand and shut her eyes. She didn't want to be here. When she opened them again, the knife was in her hand. It looked just like the one -

She didn't want to think about it. If she did, she'd never be able to save herself. Ree walked to the target and raised her hand. She noticed it trembling and forced it steady. Now or never. Her vision blurred, and she tried to keep her eyes from watering. She didn't want to do this - any of this. Her hand was shaking again. If she just threw it, somehow, she believed that she'd finally be free., that she could live a life of her own, independent of what she'd done. If she threw this, she was saving knife clattered to the floor but she didn't lower her hand. She couldn't see the target anymore.

Ree felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see the District One girl looking at her with worried eyes. She jerked away, backing up, a sob clawing its way out of her throat, and it wasn't until she was out of the training room and into the hall that she realized what had happened. She couldn't do it. Oh, god. She was going to die.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Zealya was surprised that nobody had been at slingshot all day. Or the day before. She hadn't even meant to stop there, not really, but the instructor had caught her on her way around. She'd been wandering aimlessly around the center, not committed to one station, entirely overwhelmed. After only five minutes working with the instructor, she realized how deadly a slingshot could prove to be. The best part was that no one would suspect anyone to use one during the Games - that was how she could slip away.

Her aim was pretty good. And she could do some real damage. She was really starting to perfect it.

Zealya had a real chance. She knew she could do this. She could come home. She could see her family again.


	17. Interviews

"Hello, Panem!" Caesar Flickerman stood before his hungry audience, ready for whatever tonight entailed. Out of all the pre-Games rituals, tonight was by far the most exciting. Tonight was the interviews. "Are you ready for the most hectic Hunger Games yet?" The cheer was deafening. "Me, too, me, too." Caesar started on his bit of amping up the audience as Starla waited, breath held backstage. She stood next to Xavier who was starting to look a bit pale, but he still gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Is it weird to be this nervous?" she whispered. He gave her a quick smile.

"There's no way they're not gonna love you. Just make sure to smile and laugh. You're from District One. That alone will get you dozens of sponsors. It doesn't take much," he said. Starla rolled her eyes, but she felt a little reassured as Caesar called her on the stage.

"Well, I won't make you wait any longer. Let's give a warm welcome to Starla Weilder!" She made her way to the small couch and sat down, giving him a big, big smile. Remembering Xavier's words, she stretched it even wider.

She was sleepwalking through the first standard questions - he always asked everyone their favorite thing about the Capitol, about their training scores, and Starla had those prepared. What she had to steel herself for were the questions after those.

"You're the first person from District One to be reaped in a very long time. How did you feel when your name was called?"

Starla took a moment to pick a suitable answer. "Well, I can't say I was excited. I've had so much fun getting to know the Capitol, and it's such an honor to represent my district, but I don't think any girl wanted to be chosen this year. No one wanted to volunteer this time."

"Really? And, why do you say that?"

For this answer, Starla decided truth was the best. "Well, Xavier was planning on volunteering. I don't think any one wants to go up against him."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because he's the strongest tribute here. Because he's incredibly strong and driven. Because… if you'd told me at the reaping to put money on a winner, I'd put money on him even before I'd heard my name called."

"Are you saying you don't think you have a chance?"

"I'm saying… I'm saying I'll try my best." Almost like an afterthought, Starla smiled again. She vaguely recognized Caesar thanking her for her time and the audience cheering. Rattled, she got up and headed offstage as they were calling Xavier out. She wasn't planning on being so honest.

She tried to breeze right by him, but he grabbed her arm, eyebrows furrowed. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came out. Starla shook her head, though she didn't know what she was saying no to. "Good luck," she said, and then settled down backstage to watch, trying to collect her thoughts and stop her hands from shaking. It wasn't until the end of District Four interviews that they finally did.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Xavier had to remind himself to smile once he got on stage. He kept thinking about Starla's interview, but as soon as the lights hit him, he relaxed. He'd trained for this, too. He slid into the seat, and set his mind to autopilot. He wasn't lying to Starla. If you smiled and laughed, and if you were from a favored district, you could do little wrong.

The audience cheered as he answered the beginning questions. Xavier was surprised by how loud it was. Everything felt really loud all of a sudden. Loud, bright, too much. He stretched his smile wider.

"Your district partner, Starla, has said that you're the clear winner this year. What do you think about that?" Caesar asked him, once the applause died down.

The question threw Xavier for a loop. He decided to go with the truth. "I think that Starla shouldn't sell herself short." He felt his face growing serious, but he couldn't help it. "She got a ten as her training score, same as me. The way I see it, we're going into this even."

"I see. And how do you feel going into the arena with her?"

"Well," Xavier paused to think. He didn't expect so many questions about Starla. "We're a team. I mean, she's a lot smarter than me, so it'll be useful to have her at my back."

"Right, right. Now, do you want to win?"

"Of course I want to win. I didn't volunteer to die." It was starting to occur to Xavier that that was _exactly_ what he did. He answered the rest of the questions with the response he'd practiced with his mentors, pausing to smile or laugh. His mind was elsewhere. So when he got up to go, and saw her sitting backstage, giving him a closed-lipped smile, he kept replaying her words over in his head. A week ago, those words would have made him swell with pride, but now he worried.

Starla was undeniably a good person. But more than that, she had become his friend. His good friend. He'd known her in District One, sure, but it wasn't until they got here that he'd really started to get to know her. And the closer they got, the more he realized that he didn't want to lose her. So when he thought about going into the arena with Starla, knowing that only one of them would make it out, Xavier really didn't know if he wanted it to be him or Starla.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Sasha Dementor strolled out onstage as soon as her name was called. She smiled at the audience, gave a little flip of her hair, and waved. Already, the audience was milking it up, cheering so loudly, Sasha had to ask Caesar to repeat his first question. "I said, what do you like best about the Capitol?"

"I'd say the audience! They remind me why I'm here. To bring honor to my District and all of Panem." Caesar smiled, warmly at her response. These were the kind he liked.

"Good answer. Now, you're only sixteen years old. Why did you volunteer?"

"I'm ready now, so what's the point of waiting two years? Age doesn't mean anything when your life's on the line. All that matters is how much you care about surviving, and what you're willing to do for it. And I can promise you now. I'm willing to do a lot."

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Steller went next. "I think I love most seeing how happy everyone here is. If there's one thing President Snow knows how to do, it's treating his people well."

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Then, Hazel, charming and polite. "Anchora's my best friend. We're going into the arena together."

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Caesar arranged for Anchora to nod yes or no for all his questions. When Caesar asked if he was scared, he nodded. But when Caesar asked if Anchora thought he could win, he nodded at that, too.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Amy went next. "I might be small, but don't overlook me. I'm not too strong, but I'm smart."

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Then, Wright. In the beginning, it started out as a usual career interview. He asserted his determination to win, stated his allies - Xavier, Starla, Sasha, and Steller. When asked who he thought his biggest competitor in the arena would be, he replied, "Me."

Caesar was about to move on, when Wright interrupted him. "But I do have my eye on someone." There was a pause as the audience waited on bated breath for the answer. Wright relished in the moment.

"Well?" Caesar asked him. "Who?"

"Warden Sandler."

Caesar took a pause before asking, "Warden Sandler… Why him?"

"Two years ago, best friend volunteered for the game. He was doing really well, too. Right up until the District Ten guy killed him in his sleep. He was the victor that year, but Jameson was supposed to be the victor. So I'm seeing to it that District Four finally gets its rightful glory, and District Ten doesn't even make it past the first day."

From backstage, Warden Sandler could feel his face growing pale.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Ari Salt went next. "I do have someone at home, but no, I don't think I'll be making it back to him. I promised myself when I turned twelve that if I were ever reaped, I wouldn't kill anyone. I'm going to keep that promise, even if it means… even if it means I-"

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Zender winked at the audience as he made his way on stage. "No, Caesar, I've got no girl back home. I'm all for the Capitol."

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

You could feel the tension in the audience as Rose Alves made her way on stage. With a score of 11, and a District like District Six, they wanted answers.

"The truth is… I wasn't born in my district. It's rare, but my dad was requested to be transferred from District Two. I've always wanted to compete in the games, I've always wanted to bring glory to my district. Now, I have the same goal, just a different District to honor."

She didn't say that District Six was going through a famine. She didn't say that she could see death in the eyes of the children at the orphanage, in the eyes of her district partner. She didn't say that the food brought by victory could save them all.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Jack Hound came right out on the stage, looking like a deer caught in headlights. "Um, I like the food here. It's, uh, it's good.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

As Ebony spoke to Caesar, she felt herself blinking back tears and desperately hoping the audience wouldn't notice. "Yes, my token came from my parents. You see, for you guys here, pearl earrings probably seem like nothing, but back in District Seven, it's a fortune."

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

By the time Ryker went out, the audience was getting bored. With the careers over and done, there weren't many interesting tributes left. But still, Caesar marched valiantly on. "My little sister, Callie, means more to me than anyone else. All I wanna do is come home to her."

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

"Do I think I have a chance?" Fairly pretended to consider this question. Caesar asked it to most of the lesser-favored districts. "I do. If I'm going to be honest, I'm not sure why I should think that, but I do."

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Shallow went after. "So, Shallow, why did you volunteer?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"..."

"..."

"Shallow Blitz, everyone!"

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

"So, Ree, we were told by one of the trainers that you had a bit of a… moment in the weapons section?"

"What?"

"With the knives. Can you tell us what that was about?"

"I - I - I can't -"

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

"Yeah, I guess," Zeek looked weirdly out of place, too young to be wearing such a fancy-looking suit. "I guess what I miss most is my brother, Corey. He was gonna take me out for ice cream after the reaping."

Youngly's interview was unnerving, like most of her interactions in the Capitol had been so far. "I'm not scared. I don't get why people think death is scary. It's a normal part of life. It just happens to be the ending, is all."

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Warden had dropped his death glare for the interview, and was actually looking rather handsome. "I am a little surprised with my training score, but not too much. Sometimes, you've gotta put a little faith in yourself." He didn't make eye contact with Wright as he walked off stage.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

As Zealya Vet was coming on stage, Caesar sighed. They were nearing the home stretch. "At this point, going home feels like a dream. Everything else is a nightmare."

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

"I guess I'm young, but that doesn't mean I have a chance." Reel was quick to jump to a defense. "I provide for my family, and I work hard. I can do this, too."

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

"Ellie, I know your brother was in the Games, so how -"

The Peacekeepers had to escort her off stage. Once Caesar brought up her brother, she couldn't stop crying.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

"M-my older si-ister, Abbey keeps me gr-grounded. She's m-more than I could ever hope to b-be."

"Well, she won't be a victor, now will she, Ash?"

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

"Thank you Panem, and good night! To our lovely tributes going off to fight tomorrow, may the odds be ever in your favor!"


	18. The Night Before the Games

Starla sat on the balcony, looking out at the city. If things didn't go well, this would be her last time seeing it. She hugged herself a little tighter. It was getting chilly, and she started to hope that she wouldn't get a snowy arena. A few tributes always died from hypothermia those years. Well, it didn't really matter, she figured. Weather was going to be the least of her problems.

God. How was this fair? How was any of this fair? For the first time since she got reaped, Starla let herself cry. Whether she made it out or not, something would be taken from her forever - her life or her innocence. Or, dare she say, her friends? She'd gotten close with her allies, especially Xavier. She didn't want to watch them die. Even people as obnoxious as Sasha and Wright, or even tributes she hadn't met, like the two from District Three - the thought of having to watch the life fade out of their eyes, of people she knew, had talked with, had stood with in line, waiting to board their chariots - she didn't want to think about that.

Even though she was a career, even though she had allies, she couldn't calm her nerves. She had still been reaped. If it weren't for Xavier, she probably wouldn't have been allied with them at all. And Starla could tell that Sasha already had it out for her.

Starla sighed. The night wind felt so nice. Not manufactured, or manipulated like the arena would be, just the world going, going, going, no matter what happens. No matter whose children are sent to be killed, no matter how much blood is spilled.

She could tell Xavier wanted to talk to her after his interview, but she'd slipped away as soon as District Twelve wrapped up. She was already confused. And knowing she'd be fighting for her life tomorrow, she figured the less complicated things were, the better off she'd be. As if on cue, Xavier bounded through the door on the roof, loudly.

Starla wasn't expecting it. She lost her balance, and started to slide right off the edge. She saw just before she fell Xavier running to grab her, but it was too late. She fell about five feet before she barely managed to grab hold of a post. "Starla!" Xavier cried out.

"Oh, god. Oh, no, oh, god." She looked down. Big mistake. She didn't want to die, not like this. Not now. She looked back up and saw Xavier's face looming over her, eyebrows furrowed with wild concern. She was never happier to see him. He reached his hand out and she reached hers, but she'd fallen too far. She couldn't reach.

Xavier was saying something, but Starla's heart was beating too loudly for her to hear him. "Starla, listen!" She felt like she was going to pass out. Her arm already hurt. "Do you trust me?"

"What? I - Yeah!" She struggled to make herself heard over the wind that had just picked up.

"Then let go!"

" _What_?"

"Do you trust me?!" She looked into his eyes, so worried, but so certain. How did she know this wasn't just a way of picking off competition early? She didn't. But despite herself, despite the circumstances, she trusted him. She let go.

For what felt like an eternity, she was free falling. A scream ripped through her throat as Xavier faded from sight. She shut her eyes, preparing for impact. And then, something electric ran through her body, and she was being thrown up again. Before she knew it, she was sprawled out on the concrete in front of Xavier, breathless.

"Starla! Are you okay?"

"What - what -"

"Is anything broken or - or hurt?"

"No, no, I don't think so," she said, though her whole body felt sore. "What was that?"

Xavier paused, letting his hands fall from her shoulders. "Forcefield. Apparently, sometimes a tribute tries to jump sometimes, so they put that there to make sure they stayed alive until the Games. Until tomorrow."

"Oh." Starla realized she was still on the floor, so she pushed herself to her feet, but as soon as she was standing, her legs started to give way. "Sorry, I'm just, woah, I think I'm a little dizzy."

"Yeah, that's probably a side effect. C'mon, let's go back." He held an arm tightly around her shoulders as she stumbled to her room. Xavier wanted to ask her about her interview, about the Games, about their alliance with the others, about their friendship and what it would mean when they had to kill each other. But everything he could have asked her would have just made it harder for both of them, and it was going to be hard enough.

He helped her safely to her bed, and after pausing a moment to look at her - face shining in the moonlight, eyes shut, peaceful - he headed for the door. "Xavier," Starla mumbled. He looked back and his face softened. He could just make out her eyes, barely open, looking his way.

"Don't go." He lingered in the doorway just a moment longer. "Things won't be like this in the morning." He could hear what was left unsaid: _Things won't be like this ever again._ He sat on her bed, looking at her for a moment, and then decided on taking the chair. After fifteen restless minutes, he finally drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Sasha could hear Steller training in the other room. He didn't ever give it a rest, did he? Sasha didn't need to train. She wouldn't have volunteered if she didn't think she could win, and she didn't just think, she _knew_. So what, she'd only gotten a seven on her private training score? She already had her plan. Everyone who'd gotten a higher training score than her, every single one, would die, brutally, at her hands. Of course, her allies would take her as far as she needed them to. But, when the time was right -

Of course, Starla could go early. Yeah, Starla got a ten. But she didn't even volunteer, she was _reaped_. She basically said in her interview she didn't even have a chance. The only reason she'd gotten this far, was because she'd been riding on Xavier's coattails. She distracted him, too. The earlier she was out of the game, the better. As long as Sasha made it look like an accident…

And with that thought, Sasha started her game plan.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

It was only starting to set in for Shallow that it was his last living night. This time tomorrow, he'd be dead. As he walked to his room, his legs felt shaky. Shallow never much cared for any of the other tributes, so when he heard Fairly crying softly from her room, he almost kept walking. And then he realized he quite literally had nothing to lose. So, gently, he knocked on her door, and after no response, he opened it.

She was curled into a ball on her bed, furiously rubbing at her eyes. "Fairly?" he asked, not really knowing what to do. She'd made an effort on the train to say something to him, but he'd brushed her off. She hadn't tried again. "Fairly, is there - is there anything I can do to - to help?"

She looked up at him, her eyes red, and so full of sorrow Shallow felt it run through him, too. "I'm scared," she said. And then she looked away again. He started to take a few steps towards her to - to what? Hug her? Put a hand around her shoulder? What could he do that would make this better?

Nothing. There was nothing he could do. Slowly, he turned around and left her room, shutting the door softly behind him.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Ree looked out the window. It was too beautiful a night for what they were going to wake up to. She hadn't been expecting Caesar to bring up her meltdown, but it had lodged itself in her head all night. Usually, she could tamp the memory down, hold it back, but this time, Ree wanted to remember it. Just once.

For the first time in years, Ree relived her most horrible memory. It was one week before her twelfth birthday, two weeks before her first reaping. She was getting provisions from the butcher for their dinners for the next week. When he went to the back after she bought the meat, she peeked behind the counter and nicked three knives.

She went to the spot near the fence, right before the forest starts. She closed her eyes, and aimed for the tree. It fell, just a few inches short. Better than nothing. She thought she heard something, but she convinced herself she was paranoid. She threw the second one, and it made it. She felt a momentary burst of glee bubble up inside her. She threw the third one.

She hadn't seen the little girl, she'd come out of nowhere. She must have only been a few years younger than Ree, but she looked so small, and she didn't die slowly. She'd cried, silently, and Ree was surprised there was so much blood coming out of a body so small. "Help," she begged. But Ree didn't do anything. She turned around, and she ran.

She could've helped the girl, maybe. She could've saved her life if she'd told someone. But she ate the provisions she'd gotten from the butcher, she scrubbed her hands - as if there was blood all over them, and then she went to bed. They shot the butcher two days later.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

"C-c'mon, Ellie. J-just go to sleep, it'll be f-fine."

"I want Rett! I want Rett, I want Rett, I want him, I want him here!"

"I know, El-lie, just go to sl-sleep."

Haymitch stumbled into the room, light pouring through the door. "What's wrong with the girl?" he slurred.

Ash looked back, just for a moment, before turning his attention back to Ellie. "She's scared. She misses her brother."

Haymitch was silent for so long that Ash thought he left. But then, finally, "I remember Rett."

"You do?" Ash looked at Haymitch who was sloshing the scotch around in his glass. He looked at Ash, and for a moment, there was something in Haymitch's face that shifted, a guard lowered. But then he just gave a wry, little smile. A moment later, the light in the hall shut off, and Ash and Ellie were thrust into darkness.


	19. Bloodbath

Zealya was blinded with light as her platform thrusted up into the arena. She looked around, eyes wide. They were in a forest. The countdown was starting - one minute left until it was all over. No, no, not all over. She wasn't going to die. She wasn't. Zealya was glad it was a forest. She was hoping for a forest. There was so much green all around her.

She saw the pair from District One lock eyes and nod at each other, and she saw Sasha, the girl from District Two in a ready lunge. She heard crying from somewhere to her left, but she didn't know who it was coming from. She felt like she might cry, too. Sucking in a huge breath, she forced herself to scan the cornucopia. Like a gift, a slingshot was sitting in ample view. Zealya eyed a rock on the ground to her right. She'd grab it and - and what? Run?

No. Zealya wouldn't run, not yet. She'd hit somebody. She'd kill somebody. And then she'd grab a pack and bolt. She could do it. She really, really could. She knew - she believed in herself.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

The countdown edged on agonizingly slowly. _Three_. Wright Geon saw the sword - _his_ sword. _Two_. He saw the scared tributes, his victims. _One_. He saw his victory in front of him already. And he ran, straight towards the weapons. He heard cacophony all around, but he didn't even think about it. He was one of the first to reach the weapons. Of course. All this training, all this preparing, and finally, it was here. He grabbed the sword, glistening, made _just_ for him. It felt heavy in his hands, but in the good way, the strong way. He paused to run a finger along the blade.

He heard screams and saw blood out of the corner of his eye. It was better than he could have possibly imagined. Sword in his hand, shining in the sun, a small laugh escaping him - Wright Geon was on top of the world. Wright Geon was invincible. He turned, ready to take his first strike, and as soon as he faced the arena, he felt something strike through the back of his head, like a bullet. Before he could scream, before he could do anything, he fell to the ground, face pressed to the grass, letting out a small sharp breath. The first cannon of the eighty-fourth Hunger Games fired. The sword lay in front of him, clean and unused, glistening in the manufactured sun.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Zealya Vet stood, frozen. The cannon had just fired, and the boy, one of the careers lay dead, because of the slingshot in her hand. She should have felt guiltier, or scared, but instead she was just surprised. She'd done it. Someone running shoved into her shoulder, sending her careening to the ground. She hastily tried to scramble to her feet, but someone kicked her down again. A shadow hovered over her. The sun had disappeared behind Sasha Dementor's back. Zealya could see Sasha's lips moving, but could barely make out what she was saying.

"From one seven to another."

Zealya realized what was about to happen. Terror seized her throat so tightly she couldn't even scream. She crawled backwards, desperately trying to scramble away, but then, too late. Sasha Dementor's blade, pried from another tribute's clammy, dead hands, sliced through Zealya, and then her cannon fired, and she didn't know fear anymore.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Xavier glanced to his right, just long enough to see Starla escape into the thick brush of forest. They had agreed that she wouldn't fight, that she'd find them shelter and build a signal fire so they'd know where to meet. Later, she confessed to Xavier that she came up with that plan because was scared, because she didn't want to kill anybody, at least not right away.

So, once she was out of sight, he directed his attention back to the cornucopia. Calling it a bloodbath was certainly fitting, and everywhere, people were either fighting, running, or dying. He plunged straight in, seeing a body strewn on the ground in the center, sword clutched to their chest. He'd need that sword.

It was only when he was prying the dead boy's hands off the hilt that he realized it was Wright, one of his own. He didn't pause to be shocked, or to mourn. There'd be time for that after. Now, it was time to -

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of blond, an axe raised, and without thinking about it, finally letting his body run on the instinct that had been ingrained into him through years and years, Xavier struck, slashing the tribute's stomach wide open. She screamed first, loud, shrill, and desperate. It was only when she was gurgling on the ground that Xavier realized it was the District Seven girl, Ebony. She blinked a few times, eyes wide and frightened, blood pouring out of her wound in a thick, steady stream. He couldn't stay here and watch. He thought he might be sick.

He grabbed three packs, took one look behind him at Sasha and Steller, still fighting, and trusted that they'd be okay. Then, he took off in the direction Starla went, ignoring the red droplets dripping from the tip of his sword, following him like breadcrumbs.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

When the gong rang out, Steller went on autopilot. Pretend it was simulation again, he told himself, that was all, just simulation, just like training. He was prepared for any outcome, he was. He'd have to be. Any weapon would have done fine, but the first thing Steller grabbed was a spear, and it felt sturdy in his grip. It would do fine.

Yes, the other tributes had lives, and homes, and families. He knew that, but he had to forget about it. What he was doing was for a tomorrow that none of them, him included, would ever live to see. His first run into the bloodbath was for supplies. He grabbed two packs and an assortment of weapons. Starla was waiting for his cue, waiting at the lip of the forest, and he threw her the pack and a few weapons and she ran into the brush, off to find shelter. On his second run, he looked for his first target.

Steller could tell it was the District Six boy, even though his back was turned to him. Jack, his name was Jack. Steller could tell it was him just because of how thin he was, his bones jutting out and his skin clinging to whatever it could find. He wasn't running, or fighting, or trying to defend himself. He was rifling through the packs at the Cornucopia, almost absently, as if he wasn't really there at all.

This one, it seemed, would be a mercy kill. Steller didn't even see Jack's eyes, just ran his spear through his back. Jack twitched a little, then collapsed face down, still, and the cannon fired and that was that. A pang of guilt, and then it was over. He had to find his next victim, he had to keep moving, but somewhere at the back of his mind, he knew it should have been harder for him to drive a spear through a child's back and watch the life drain out of them. It should have been much harder to do that.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Shallow, despite everything, despite how much he'd assured himself that he was ready, was scared. No, not scared. Terrified. Bodies were falling, there were screams all around him, and no one was going to hold his hand and take him to safety.

But he wasn't alone. That's right. He had an ally. Wildly, he looked around for Youngly, finally spotting her still standing near the edge, but slowly walking towards the center, calm, cool, collected as ever. He sprinted towards her, aware of more screams to his right. "What are you doing?" he yelled, once he got close enough to her. Her head snapped in his direction, sharply. "You'll get slaughtered, we have to go!" He tried to grab her hand and pull her away, but she stood firmly.

"I thought this is what you wanted."

"I - I'm scared. I don't - I don't know, I - Please. Please, Youngly, I need you. I'll be all alone if you -"

She shook her head, gave him a small, little smile, the saddest smile he'd ever seen. Then, she continued her slow march towards death. Shallow couldn't watch. He ran, deep into the forest, and collapsed next to a berry bush, on hands and knees, half sobbing. Even from there, he could still hear the screams.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Ryker had already started running when he heard the scream. Out of instinct and recognition, he turned around. He didn't know what he'd expected but it wasn't what he saw. Ebony, already surrounded in a pool of blood, not two minutes after the gong rang out. He knew what she'd said, about wanting to go it alone, but this couldn't have been what she meant.

If he left her there now, then she'd die. And it struck him then that if she died now, before anything's even started, nobody would remember her. Nobody would even know her name. She could be dead right now for all he knew, several cannons had fired already, and one of them could easily have been hers, but without even consciously making the decision, he ran towards her, scooped her up, and carried her. He didn't even realize he'd grabbed a pack and ran away until he was in the forest and the screams had faded.

All he thought about was one objective: get far away, get safe. He didn't think about how heavy Ebony felt, all dead weight in his arms, he didn't think about how pale she looked, he didn't think about any of the other tributes, many already dead. He didn't even think about the blood staining his shirt, dripping onto his shoes. He just ran.

And because he ran without thinking, it figured that he ran right into someone. Two people it turned out. Ash, in a seemingly similar situation to him, Ellie limp in his arms. Upon just a moment of observation, she seemed unharmed, conscious, actually, but her hands were pressed tight over her ears and her eyes were squeezed closed. In Ash's eyes, there was wild fear and desperation, but despite the packs around both of their backs, neither was at a position to grab a weapon.

"C'mon." That was all Ryker said, but with a nod, a brief moment of looking at each other, and a step in the same direction, it seemed to be decided. Together, wordlessly, their other allies in their arms, Ash and Ryker ran side by side through the forest as allies.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Amy could feel her face getting cut with sharp lashes of pain from the tree branches whipping into her, but she didn't stop, not for a second, she just kept running and running and running. She was lucky she'd been able to grab a pack, one from the edges of the cornucopia, before she saw Sasha catch her eye and come barreling towards her, then she ran, and ran, and ran, figuring, hoping, praying Sasha would give up, find another tribute to kill. She didn't dare look behind her to see if that was true.

Then, a branch, or maybe the root of a tree was strewn out in front of her, but it didn't matter because she went down, hard, scraping both her knees, and someone going just as fast as she was rammed into her, and went down, too, a mess of limbs, rolling, writhing on the ground. Amy cried out, and then quickly silenced herself, trying to scramble to her feet and falling again.

"Please - please don't - I - I'm sorry - please -"

"No, no," a girl's voice said. Amy looked up, scared. It was the District Eight girl, Fairly. Amy started to say something, but Fairly beat her to it. "I don't - I don't want to hurt you, Amy. I'm not going to hurt you."

Like a dam opening, like blood spilling out of a wound, something inside Amy was set free, and for the first time since she'd been reaped, she got down on her knees, buried her face in her hands and sobbed, sobbed like she'd had every right to do. After a moment, she felt Fairly tentatively put her arms around her, and even through her grief-stricken cries, grief for the life she would never get back, grief for the life of peace and simple happiness that was stolen, robbed from her forever, she realized that at least now, she would not be alone.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Shallow breathed in and out, slowly, like he'd been doing for the past few hours. The sun had set now. Any moment, the faces of the fallen would flash up in the sky. He didn't want to see it, see the faces of kids he'd sat with and trained with and ate with. He thought this was what he wanted, but it wasn't, not anymore. This was a terror he never should have had to see. He wanted to turn back time, go back to the reaping and let fate run its course, keep his mouth closed, spend time trying to move on from the shitty hand life dealt him.

But he was here now, and he knew what lay in store for him. He had the chance to do what he'd meant to. And though his hands were shaking, he reached toward the berry bush. He didn't do a lot of training, but he knew what these were. Nightlock. More than enough to do the job. He took the berry, held it in his hands. The moon was so bright tonight, the stars twinkling in the sky. He felt a brief rush of wind, and he swore he could hear birdsong. Of course, none of it was real, just an illusion built by the gamemakers. But still, it was beautiful. He held the berry tightly in his hand, and let it slip down his throat. It tasted sweet. It was so easy.

Within moments, he felt the effects start to take place, so he laid down, closed his eyes. He thought of his mother, what she was doing, wearing, what she looked like. He wondered if she was watching. As the last bits of consciousness started to fade away, as he felt colder and colder, the only thing Shallow could think was that wherever she was, he hoped she was happy.


	20. Bloodbath Aftermath

Starla felt like she couldn't breathe until Xavier got back. Not just him, Steller, Wright, Sasha, all her allies. As the cannons fired, she realized - what if they died? What if all of them were dead, and now she was all alone, lighting a signal fire for people who would never come?

But they did come. Xavier first, through the trees, and Starla almost cried with relief, the packs spilling out of her hands and ran to him, throwing her arms around him. He was okay, he was okay, he was alive. Thank _god_. When she pulled away, her clothes were wet with blood.

"Are you hurt? Is it - is the blood -"

"It's not mine."

"Are the others okay?"

"They were when I left," he said, and then he looked away, hesitated a moment. "But Wright - Wright didn't make it."

He was the first face in the sky that night. Not too long after Xavier, Steller and Sasha got back, and none of them spoke a word about Wright.

Xavier was lying next to her when his face flashed by. Wright Geon, District Four. Then, Jack Hound, District Six. Xavier drew in a deep breath. He'd told Starla that he'd killed the District Seven girl, but her face didn't show. Instead, Shallow Blitz, District Eight was next. Confused, they shared a glance. Then, Youngly Cart, District Ten. Those two, Shallow and Youngly, had had an alliance closer to a suicide pact. It must have paid off. Finally, Zealya Vet's face flashed by, accompanied by Sasha's triumphant smile. When the music stopped, the silence felt deafening.

Only five tributes. It felt like so many when Starla was just listening to the cannons. Even now, seeing their faces, it felt like a lot. But she knew from previous years, that really, it wasn't. Not even close. The gamemakers would be hungry for blood. She just hoped the blood spilled wouldn't be hers.

They waited to go over their supplies until the morning. It had been a long day, and everyone was tired, and they'd already drank the water bottles that came with their packs. "We're fine on food," Steller said, combing through what they had collected. Starla knew they didn't need that many packs, that there was probably some other tribute starving somewhere, but she had to remind herself that it all ended the same way. One left standing. How they got there didn't matter. At least, that's what she tried to believe.

"We're fine on weapons, too," he continued, "but we're out of water." Steller's eyes flicked up to every member of the group, lingering a beat longer on Starla. They were in an alliance, but that could only last so long. She hadn't fought in the bloodbath with the rest of them. So when everyone started turning on each other, she didn't want a reason to be first.

"I'll go. I think I saw a river east of here when I was scouting for shelter." She stood up, grabbing a pack, just in case.

"No one goes alone. I'll come, too," Xavier said. Starla was happy to have the company, but before he could stand up, Sasha was getting to her feet.

"You stay here, I'll go with her." Then, Sasha flashed a smile to Starla. It seemed genuine enough, but Starla couldn't help but feel a little bit uncomfortable. She still didn't quite trust Sasha, but they were allies. It wasn't like she could say no.

They made the walk to the river in silence. It only took about ten minutes, and they weren't even hurrying. There was a sort of tension in the air, different than the kind that had been there since the Games started the day before. This was new, dangerous, and Starla couldn't help but feel on edge. They got to the river, and she bent down, scooping up a cup of water, keeping one eye on Sasha. She wouldn't put it past Sasha to stab her while her back was turned.

Starla filled all the water bottles in the pack, put in the drops of iodine and sat down. The whole time, Sasha was just waiting with her arms crossed, watching. Maybe Starla was wrong. It was too early in the game, what could Sasha possibly have to gain from killing her now? Starla got to her feet, feeling the sun warming her back. She knew it was fake, that none of this was real, but it still felt nice. She took a few steps towards the river, listening to the quiet sloshing sound. On her fourth step, she accidentally knocked the pack over, spilling weapons and packaged crackers everywhere, just out of her reach.

As Starla made to gather the items, she heard Sasha's nervous voice. "Don't move." Slowly, Starla wheeled around, praying she was wrong, but there was Sasha, just as she suspected, her hand outstretched, fingers clutching so tightly at the handle of the knife that her knuckles turned white. "It's nothing personal."

"Sasha -"

"Look, I just wanna go home. We all do."

"Sasha, you don't have to do this. We can just go back - I won't tell anyone, Sasha, please."

"No, no, I _can't_ do that, I -" Her hand shook again. She had never seen Sasha so scared. She hoped that meant she had a little bit of time. It was possible that she would die right now. Likely, even. But she would go down fighting. Starla whirled around, reaching for the knife she'd just kicked over, but before she could even touch the handle, She felt Sasha's blade rip through her skin. Her arm.

Instantly, there was so much blood. The blood came before the pain. And then, the pain, roaring through her. She staggered back, wanting to go down, wanting to give her legs a break, her body a break, but she wouldn't. Falling now would mean certain death. Sasha's hands were shaking so badly now. That must have been why she missed her heart by a long shot.

But then, she saw Sasha's shaky attempt at a smile, and knew that even though she was nervous, Sasha didn't miss. She wrapped her hands around both of Starla's shoulders, and for a moment, through the dazzling pain, Starla looked into her eyes, a brief moment of connection, of hope, but then Starla felt Sasha shove her, roughly, into the water below.

The pain was so heavy that she couldn't do anything but sink, watch her blood cloud around her. The air had gone, everything had gone, and either Starla's eyes were closed or it was so dark already, down deep. She felt her thoughts narrowing, felt herself trying to scrape up the energy to pull herself out, but she was already so tired.

Sasha had turned on her, early. And she was headed back to camp now. She felt black scraping at the edges of her brain, but even with the life bleeding out of her like the blood from her arm, she tried to think. Her body wouldn't cooperate, fine. But she'd make her mind last until the end. If Sasha was headed back to camp, that meant the others were in danger. That meant Xavier was in danger, it meant he could be next.

Starla was dying, quickly, quicker than she'd like, and if she didn't get out, Xavier would, too. One of them would die by the end, of course, but Starla couldn't comprehend that right now. She could only understand survival. Even Xavier passed from her mind as she used her uninjured hand to swim up to the surface. Luckily, it was a relatively shallow river, and her lungs were crying out for air, but she still couldn't surface. It seemed so far away, the light pooling at the top, but she swam towards it anyway, toward the sun that had warmed her back only minutes before.

She pulled herself up onto the bank, coughing up water, then heaving for air. Her whole body was shaking and already she felt lightheaded. She was losing too much blood. Sasha had gone, left her with the pack and the waters. There must have been a reason to leave them, but Starla couldn't think clearly enough to figure it out yet. She stayed there a while, curled up on the riverbank, warmed by the sun, blood still spilling out of the ragged cut Sasha had make. After a while, she closed her eyes, longing to drift off. It was so warm, and quiet, and there was the sound of rushing water.

Then, she opened her eyes, and told herself that it was time to get up. She knew her body was in shock, that she was running on adrenaline. She'd pay for it later, but it would be useful now. She downed an entire water bottle, then methodically, she capped the other ones, slipping them into the pack. She threw the pack around her shoulders, nearly throwing her off balance and onto the ground again, but she steadied herself.

As she walked, feeling the blood drip down her arm, she knew the adrenaline was wearing off. But she continued on, getting colder and colder. She forgot that she was still wet. About halfway through the walk, she felt the pain return and for a moment she collapsed to her knees and screamed. Her throat was raw, and everything felt empty inside of her, like she'd screamed herself hollow. It hurt more than she thought was possible. She didn't even know pain like this could exist. How could she be in this much pain and still be alive at all? But eventually, she swallowed it down. She felt black edging her vision, but she couldn't stop now, she was so close. She had to keep moving. Get back to camp. That was all that was keeping her going. Getting back to camp, and Xavier, and help.

She was so tired, but she dragged on, finishing the walk at a near crawl. Finally, she got to the clearing she had picked out for them yesterday. Was it yesterday? It seemed so much longer ago than that. It took only a few moments for Xavier to see her, and she caught Sasha's eyes widening. She had made it, she had gotten there, and only a second after Xavier ran to go to her, eyes wild with worry, she felt herself falling.

He caught her just barely, lowering her to the ground. Everything was blurring together, trees and sky, and the sun that wasn't really the sun. Was that right? She couldn't remember. "Oh god. Starla? Oh _god._ I thought she was staying behind to purify the water!"

"She was fine when I left, I swear, I - I don't know what -"

"Starla?" Xavier's voice again. "Starla, what happened?" She tried to speak, but found nothing came out. She didn't even know what she would have said. She felt her eyes flutter shut, taking longer and longer to open after each slow blink. "No, no, don't close your eyes. You have to stay awake. Gauze, Steller, I need the gauze!"

She didn't want to let him down, she was trying so hard to do what he said, though she forgot now why she was supposed to stay awake when she was so, so tired. Xavier's face hovered before her, suddenly in startling clarity. He was so beautiful. The sun that had warmed her back, that had guided her to the surface of the water, that had saved her, was behind him now. It had turned him golden. She tried to move, to reach her hand up and trace the freckles dotting his cheeks. But the best she could achieve was the twitch of a finger.

She realized her face was wet, but not with the river water, with something new. Tears, she realized. Hers or his? She didn't know. She was so tired of fighting, of puzzling out questions, and she knew Xavier told her to stay awake, but Starla shut her eyes anyway. There was a big problem, she vaguely recalled, but Xavier would take care of it. Xavier would take care of everything now.

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

Across the arena, Hazel and Anchora were walking in silence, always silence. On the opposite side, Zender sat in a tree, across from Ari, who had first watch that night. "Hey, Zender," she started, "do you know how to swim?"

"No, why?"

Ari shrugged, as they both looked out over the water, thinking of someone else far away.

Somewhere else, Ree Joan was running, running, running as she had as soon as the gong rang out, no pack, no weapons and now she was running, running, running still. Feet away from where Shallow took his last breaths, Warden looked over the sleeping form of Zeek, and wished Zeek could stay dreaming. Zeek stirred a bit, whimpered, and Warden ran his finger through Zeek's hair, like he used to do for his little sister.

As night began to fall and no cannons had fired, Reel Carr huddled closer inside the cornucopia, left abandoned after the bloodbath. He could still smell the blood in the air, but there were weapons and supplies and a roof over his head, even if there wasn't anyone beside him. For now, that was enough.


	21. Will you do something for me?

Zender yawned, peering up through the thick leaves of the tree. He'd been up since midnight on watch, but the arena had been eerily quiet. All the previous day, really. There hadn't even been a cannon. And with only five dead at the bloodbath, Zender wondered just how long the Games would last this year. The sun had risen, though, and in spite of himself, Zender found a momentary peace, watching the rays beam down through the branches. He wished Alex could be there to see this.

Zender could picture it now, the sun reflecting off of Alex's dark skin, the warmth of their mouths pressed together. But then, realizing exactly where he was, and exactly where he was wishing Alex was, Zender banished the thought from his mind. Alex was exactly where he was meant to be - far away from here.

Ari looked so peaceful sleeping on the ground next to him, but he was getting really tired of his own company, so he gently shook her. Blearily she sat up, rubbing her eyes. They didn't even make a plan to become allies, but it just seemed so natural that they should be, coming from the same district. So, when they'd locked eyes during the bloodbath, both with a pack on their back, they nodded and headed in the same direction.

And now, there was this. Waiting for something to happen. But it was better than the alternative, so Zender wasn't complaining.

Within ten minutes, they were eating breakfast. He saw Ari rummage around in her pack for seconds, and he held his hand to her arm to stop her. "Hey, I wouldn't. You don't know how long we're gonna be in here."

Ari froze, her eyes flicking down to the ground. When she looked up at him again, they were filled with tears. He let go of her arm, scared he'd done something wrong, knowing that just being here was what was wrong. But he asked, anyway.

"Ari, what is it?"

"Um," she said, shakily, and though he didn't know why, Zender got a sinking feeling in his gut. "I - I don't - It's -"

"You can tell me."

"Zender, would you do something for me?"

 **-::-::-::-::-::-**

Across the arena, Sasha was sharpening her knife. Breathe in, breathe out. In, out. It would be okay. She glanced over to Starla's lifeless form, still slumbering on the forest floor. She felt another prickle of hatred spark to life inside of her. Sasha knew when she didn't hear a cannon that she should've gone back and finished the job, but she didn't. Too little, too late.

If she was lucky, Starla would never wake up at all. That certainly seemed likely at this point. An entire day and she hadn't stirred. Of course, the smart choice now would be a mercy kill. What they needed to be doing was hunting - picking down the other tributes, narrowing the pool of competitors. But Xavier refused to leave her side, and Steller figured they should grant him some sympathy. Protesting now would only raise more suspicion and she was in hot water as it was.

If Xavier had just left well enough alone, they'd all be done with this. Starla's heart stopped. And she remembered watching Steller press on her chest, watching Xavier tilt her head back and breathe into her mouth, all the basic training they'd received in the districts. Her anger flared as soon as Xavier said she had a pulse again, smiling and crying at the same time. Why the hell would you bring someone back in a fight to the death? But she kept her mouth shut. If Starla kept her mouth shut, too, now and hopefully forever, then maybe Sasha could still get out of this clean.

-::-::-::-::-::-

"How do you -" Zender started, but the words ran dry in his mouth. He cleared his throat, took a breath, and started again. "How do you want to do this?"

"You'll help me?"

"I don't know." He didn't meet her eye. They'd made their way to water, and Zender's feet were dangling in the shallow end. He didn't want to look at her.

"I hadn't planned it out or anything. I just - I don't want it to hurt." She sounded so small, then, that he couldn't help but turn her way. But when he looked at her again, he felt the anger return.

"Clearly you've planned it out a little."

There was a long pause before she spoke again, and Zender felt a little guilty, knowing that his anger was pointless, that he was just trying to make things easier for himself, when this shouldn't be about him at all, and yet, he couldn't stop. "Zender," she said, swishing her feet back and forth in the water, "I'm sorry, but we're allies, can't you -"

" _Allies_? I don't think this is what an alliance means. Why'd you even team up with me if you knew…" He trailed off, not wanting to say the words out loud. "If you knew what you were planning on doing?"

Ari took a shuddering breath. "I don't want to die, Zender. If I had it my way, I'd go home right now, and live out the rest of my life. But I don't really have a choice in that. What I can choose is how I die, and when we allied together… I didn't want to die alone. And - and I can't - I can't do this by myself," she said, finally dissolving into tears, and Zender felt a bit of him dissolve with her. He was all guilt and misery now, but he understood. She was right. It was her choice.

"If you want it to be painless, then I guess nightlock would be your best bet."

"I thought about that. But it's too far into the woods, and I don't want to put us in danger. It's not a risk worth taking."

"Okay, then, I don't - what do you want to do? It's your choice."

"I don't know. I was thinking just… knock me out, tie some rocks to me and then put me in the water and let me sink."

Zender nodded. It seemed she had thought this out more than she'd let on, and he felt so, so sorry for her. He could imagine her, back at the Capitol, planning it out, weighing her options, her odds, her chances. Making the decision, and carrying it alone. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

"Yes," she whispered. "I can't - I can't do this, I -"

"Okay." He cut her off, and she nodded, tears silently rolling down her face and pooling at the tip of her lip. "When?"

She looked up at him, and finally, for the first time in the entire conversation, their eyes met. "Give me an hour."

-::-::-::-::-::-

No cannons had fired for a day and a half. Next to Fairly in the tree, Amy was nibbling on a piece of jerky. Neither of them had said much to each other, not even when Fairly saw Shallow's face in the sky. She didn't really know Shallow in District Eight, she didn't even really know him when they got to the Capitol. And yet, Fairly found herself crying. Someone she knew and talked to, dead, gone forever.

Amy must have heard her sniffling, but she didn't say anything. Fairly was starting to get more and more worried the longer the peace remained. It was all well and good to imagine that they could keep on like this, all of them keeping the peace, an unspoken alliance to stay where they were and keep to themselves. But Fairly knew it wasn't that easy.

The gamemakers would get bored pretty soon. They could send fire, a flood, make it winter overnight, or worse. They could send mutts, have them tear her apart limb by limb. All she hoped was that someone would make the first move, a fight - far away from them - would break out and keep people entertained. But, looking over at Amy, she knew that someone wasn't going to be her.

-::-::-::-::-::-

Ari let her feet dangle in the water. She didn't really know why she'd asked for an hour. She didn't have a big plan on how she wanted to spend her last day, nothing she wanted to do, except maybe go home, hug her mom one last time, spend one more sunlit hour with Eric. But she couldn't do any of those things. If she could, then she wouldn't have to die at all.

But somehow, she'd convinced herself that if she did what Athena did, that if she didn't run a blade through anybody, didn't end someone's life, she could escape without being a killer. But even though Athena didn't stab or poison or shoot Cato, she was still his murderer. Ari understand that now. Whether or not you stopped their heart from bleeding, you couldn't leave the arena without blood on your hands.

Of course, she didn't want to die, either. If someone told her she could go home this second, she'd do it in a heartbeat. For a moment, she imagined everything she could have had. She could see herself returning home, falling into Eric's arms, getting married like he'd asked, having kids and growing old, all the pieces of her life that had been laid out in front of her falling into place like a puzzle. But maybe she wouldn't have done any of that. Maybe her and Eric would have only lasted a year, and then fizzled out. They were so young, after all. Maybe she wouldn't have gotten married to anyone, ever. Maybe, _maybe_ , just living out her life, as she was meant to, would have been enough. Of course it would have been enough.

But Ari will never know what that could have been like. As she sat near the water, one toe dipping in, she was completely oblivious to Zender, her ally, whispering fervently with someone else behind the bushes.

-::-::-::-::-::-

Xavier sat by Starla's side, fiddling with the bracelet she had given him. He felt the tension in the air, even from Steller now. They wouldn't be able to wait forever. And he understood the nature of the Games. Eventually, one of them had to die. Him, or her. But looking at her now - he swore some color was coming back into her cheeks - all he knew was that he didn't want it to be Starla.

Xavier didn't want to confront what that meant for him, for what he'd been trying to do since he was young, what his end goal had always, always been. Everything had changed now. A few times in the night, he could have sworn Starla's eyes fluttered open and back closed, and once Steller even agreed with this. But otherwise, she hadn't stirred.

He was glad he had her bracelet. He'd done everything he could for her, and now he just had to trust that it would pay off, that soon she'd open her eyes and be with him again. She couldn't die. Not yet, at least, not now.

But when she finally did wake up, her eyes remained closed. The only way he could tell she was conscious was by the slight twitching of her fingers, and her croak for, " _water_."

Instantly, heart in his mouth, Xavier helped her sit up, her arm slung around his neck, and his hand at the small of her back. He tilted the bottle into her mouth, and for a moment, he just let her drink, terrified that any moment, she would fall unconscious again. He felt Steller and Sasha standing behind him, watching.

Finally, Starla's eyes cracked open and she winced, but she just shook her head slightly and blinked the sunlight out of her eyes, before training them on Xavier. She just looked at him for a long while. Then, at last, she broke her silence. "I thought I was dead," she mumbled.

Xavier felt a shaky smile come to his face, though he felt his emotions tugging him everywhere. "I did, too." He paused a moment. "I'm really glad you're not." Xavier took a deep, deep breath. "Starla, I'm gonna see to it that you don't get hurt again. I promise," he whispered, so Sasha and Steller couldn't hear, and then he brushed his thumb over her jawline, as she let out a weak, trembling smile. Before he knew what was happening, her lips were touching his, a brief burst of strength pushing Starla forward. It was quick, and rough from her chapped lips, and so fleeting. He'd had better kisses. But as she leaned back, against the ground, eyes drooping closed again, Xavier knew, in his heart of hearts, that he loved her.

As Starla drifted off into a warm, golden sleep, she caught Sasha's eyes flitting angrily between her and Xavier, sending Starla a silent message: You talk, he dies.

-::-::-::-::-::-

When Rose had come out of the brush, Zender almost didn't recognize her. She'd smeared dirt all over her face. And besides, he hadn't paid much attention to the other tributes anyway. He figured, the less real they were to him, the easier they'd be to kill. He pulled the knife he'd kept in his boot out, holding it straight ahead in front of him, pointed directly at her. Vaguely, he recalled that she was the District Six girl, she'd volunteered. It took a moment before he realized that her hands were up in surrender.

"I'll kill you," he said. He wanted to curse his voice for trembling.

"I know," she responded simply. He thought she was almost smiling. "I was scoping this place out, to set up camp. You know, for the water."

"What do you _want_?"

"I - I wouldn't have said anything. I might have even killed you for it, but - I heard what you were talking about and -"

"You have about ten seconds left," Zender said, knowing that wasn't true, knowing he'd give her the time to explain herself, for better or for worse. She did get an eleven in training, after all.

"I have something you might need." Outstretched, in Rose's palm, was a bundle of black berries Zender recognized immediately.

-::-::-::-::-::-

"Where did you get these?" Ari asked, warily.

"It doesn't matter. They'll do what you need them to."

Ari nodded, grappling with what to say before finally settling on, "thank you." She grabbed Zender and wrapped him in a long hug, the last she'd ever have. And then, after just one moment of hesitation, she placed the berries to her lips, and swallowed them down. Her legs gave out almost instantly. She felt Zender's hands at her back, lowering her to the ground.

There was still so much more Ari wanted.

But she wasn't going to waste the little time she had left on wishes. Instead, she focused on what she could see. The sun was warming her face, and the grass was tickling her ankles, softly and smoothly, like silk. She felt the wind blow gently through her hair. Even here, there was beauty. And wherever the next place was, if there was a next place, she hoped there'd be beauty there, too. If it could exist in a place so terrible, then it must have no limits. If nothing else, that thought alone gave her solace, for just a moment, before the final bits of her consciousness finally ebbed away.

-::-::-::-::-::-

Back in District Five, sitting on a dirty, old couch, Eric sat frozen, watching the screen with his eyes unblinking, his lips forming the shape of her name, but no sound, no sound coming out at all.

-::-::-::-::-::-

Once the cannon fired, Zender stood, slowly, felt the world tilting under him, felt the air become just that much harder to breathe and then felt Rose Alves stand next to him, grab his pack and press it to his chest, take his hand and guide him into the trees and away from Ari, his friend, the body, now gone. The sun was starting to dip underneath the horizon. There went another day. There went another life.


	22. Keep Them Safe

Ryker sat, keeping watch over his three allies. Only a few hours earlier, near sunset, he heard another cannon fire, the first one in two days. He was ashamed to admit it came as a relief. But he was grateful for the quiet his allies had been awarded, at least. And Ebony was doing better. Well, he thought. He couldn't really tell for sure, but she had almost regained consciousness that day, and Ash agreed she had a little more pink in her cheeks. Aside from tending to her wound and tipping water in her mouth when she looked extra pale, Ryker didn't know what else he could do.

But right now, he was content to throw pebbles at the tree across from him. He pretended it was helping with his aim, that he was working on strategy, but really it was just a way to kill time. Once he ran out of rocks, he would stand up, walk to the other tree, and start again. It helped to keep him awake, and alert, and though he was still bored, he figured there were worse things to be, especially here.

Ryker thought a lot about what he wanted, and what it meant to have allies here, people you were actively trying to keep alive in a fight to the death. But what he wanted was simple - he wanted to get back to his sister. He'd made her a promise. Of course he didn't want Ebony to die. And though, admittedly, he was less invested in Ash and Ellie, they were slowly growing on him. It was strange how good Ash was with Ellie. And though he and Ash had been off to a rough start at training, they were starting to really get along, considering the other two members of their alliance were either unconscious or inaccessible.

But he knew how it ended; they all did. Something would take each of them out, eventually. Hard choices were going to have to be made. Ryker just hoped he wouldn't have to be the one to make them.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

When Starla woke up again, she didn't know how late it was. The sun was starting to hang lower in the sky and the edge of the horizon was tinged with pink. She blinked a few times, looking over at Xavier who was gnawing on some jerky, sitting next to her, cross-legged. Her stomach started to growl just at the sight of it. "Xavier," she murmured, expecting her voice to sound a little stronger than it did.

She laughed a little as he jumped, but her heart felt a little warmer when he turned around and smiled. "Hey," he said, softly. "You should go back to sleep, you need to rest." Starla blinked up at the sky, realizing it must have been two days at least since she got hurt. She'd been in and out of consciousness the first night, but she was fine now, and she'd been thinking.

"All I've done for the past day is rest. I think it's time to get back on my feet."

"Starla, you were really badly hurt. And I don't want to risk anything else -"

Starla cut him off with a groan, leaning her head back and staring up at the sky. "Don't say that. I'm sorry, but there are only two outcomes to this, and you're not keeping me any safer by keeping us - all of us - laying around like sitting ducks."

"You'll be good to fight again, but you have to get your strength back first, which will just take _time_ -"

"We don't have time, Xavier." There was a moment of silence, before Starla sat up, wincing. She could see Xavier's hand jerk, about to reach out and steady her, but he reluctantly pulled it back.

"I just want to keep you safe," he mumbled, so she could barely hear it, and Starla's eyes softened. She edged her hands towards his, linking their pinkies together.

"I want to keep you safe, too." Then, after a moment, "But this isn't the way to do it. Okay?"

Xavier nodded, taking a deep breath. "Yeah. Alright."

"And…" Starla started, knowing once she said this, there was no going back. "I have a plan."

-::-::-::-::-::-::-

When Ebony woke up, all she knew was that everything, _everything_ , hurt. She'd never known pain like that, like being skinned alive and then sewn back together. She was so thirsty, she needed water, she needed food, but that part wasn't as important in her mind as the pain. She opened her mouth to scream, anything, she didn't even know where she was, she just - everything hurt.

But nothing came out but a small whimper. She felt a hand on her shoulder, gently shaking her, pushing dull pain everywhere. She heard a voice saying her name, a familiar one, so she squeezed her eyes open, only to have blaring sunlight blind her. She squeezed them closed, then tried again. It was a little easier the second time, and she forced them to stay open. The sun wasn't even that bright, but it seemed clear to her that her eyes must have been closed for a long while. She started to focus on a face.

"Ryker?" She croaked out, but it could barely be heard. His eyebrows were furrowed in worry, but he nodded. "What - what -"

"You got hurt, Ebony."

She tried to nod, to do something, but speaking felt so hard. Out of the corner of her eye, she felt tears start to spill. Lying on her back, all she could see was Ryker's face hovering over her and the sky. She started to remember, in patches, where she was. She started to remember the blood on the ground, her blood, feeling like she was dying. She didn't know what happened, though, and Ryker seemed to sense it, because he kept talking.

"You were just - I saw you during the bloodbath, and you were on the ground. It's been three days. I know you said you didn't want allies but I couldn't - I didn't want to leave you there." She did say that. She'd forgotten. "And Ash, Ellie, they needed help - they helped _you_." Ash? Ellie? He must have been babbling now, because none of what he was saying made any sense to her. Ash and Ellie? Who were they? She sort of remembered - District Twelve. Yes, that was right. But what were they doing here? All these questions were tugging at Ebony as she was pulled back into blackness again.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-::-**

Steller, Xavier, Starla, and Sasha sat huddled in a circle. With a whispered hiss to Starla in the middle of the night, Sasha made it clear that yes, she would kill Xavier - in a heartbeat. So, Starla was playing it safe. She made up a story - she fell, tore her arm open on a rock, and tumbled into the river. Xavier and Steller seemed to believe her. For now, she was going to have to treat Sasha like an ally. So, Starla laid out her plan.

A month ago, she wouldn't have thought herself capable of constructing something like this. But things were different now. And almost dying had taught her that it was her life or theirs. She would have to make that choice sooner or later, and later, she might not have the advantage of allies. She might not have Xavier at her side when it came down to it. She laid it out.

First, they go find Ebony and Ryker. Steller told them he'd seen Ryker take Ebony and steal away into the forest during the bloodbath, explaining why Xavier hadn't killed her after all. Then, they knock Ebony out, and take her. Pretend they're holding her hostage for supplies. When Ryker shows up, they kill him. Then, they kill her. Clean and simple. When she said it out loud, it sounded shaky, and foolish. But the three of them just nodded, solemnly.

"Let's go," said Steller. "Tonight."


	23. The Plan: Part One

_We have Ebony. Come in 24 hours with all your supplies or she's dead_. - _Careers_

Starla stood back, reading the note over. Blunt, quick, got to the point. She wondered if it would work. She didn't know a lot about Ryker; maybe he didn't care about Ebony that much, maybe not more than his own life. They were taking a huge gamble with this assumption. But Steller described the way Ryker dove into the middle of the bloodbath to carry her. It was a surprise Ebony wasn't dead already from the amount of blood on her the first night. If he'd cared enough to save her then, Starla just hoped he'd care enough to save her now.

It was now or never. They were set to go at about midnight, though Starla had no way of knowing the time for sure. But it was time to go. She closed her eyes, drew in a shaky breath, and stood. Black spots hovered in her vision and her knees felt weak, but instantly Xavier was at her side. She steadied herself quickly, but leaned into him, just a little.

"Hey, can't anyone else go do this part?" he asked the group. Steller just shrugged, already heading in the direction Starla pointed out.

"She's our best tracker."

"It was just a head rush," she reassured Xavier, but he didn't seem convinced. She wasn't too convinced herself. Her stomach was shaking, and she wished she had more time to prepare. She wished she was back home, more than anything. She wished it all was over. She wished Xavier wasn't here, so it wouldn't be so hard. Because more than anything, she wanted him to be okay. But she didn't want to die, either. Funny how things turned out.

There wasn't time to think about that right now, though. She and Steller set out, leaving Xavier and Sasha behind. Starla would be lying if she said she wasn't a little bit nervous about what Sasha might do, but she seemed a little less bloodthirsty since Starla had survived. Plus, Xavier could handle himself if it came down to it. She had to focus on her plan if they were going to get this right.

Her eyes had mainly adjusted to the darkness, but she was still mostly being guided by the small beam of light from their flashlight. For the most part, they were silent, only speaking when necessary. The night seemed to be pulsing, alive, and her heart thudded in her ears. It was all well and good when she was just planning it out, but now they were hunting people - kids. Kids like them. In another world, she and Ebony could have been friends.

That wasn't the world they lived in now, though. And Starla had to focus. "This way," she whispered, running on instinct. Being honest, she really didn't know where Ryker and Ebony were, but she was pretty sure they were headed in the right direction. After a few moments, they took a left turn and stumbled right upon them. There were more of them than Starla thought. She hadn't known they'd allied with District Twelve.

It didn't seem to have done them much good, anyway, though. The District Twelve boy was slumped against the tree. It looked like he'd fallen asleep while he was on watch.

"Should we take them out, too?" Starla whispered to Steller.

"No," he breathed back. "As soon as we kill one, the others will wake up. Then it's three on two, and we don't have enough weapons. Your plan is good. Let's stick with it."

Starla felt relieved. That meant there didn't have to be a fight. She could do it if it came down to it, but she wasn't as strong as the others. Wordlessly, Steller handed her the piece of cloth he'd ripped from his pants earlier, and Starla smeared the knockout mixture onto it. Turned out spending time at poisonous berries really paid off. If she got it wrong now, the others could wake up, and Steller just said they couldn't take a three-person fight, with the other allies. She couldn't screw this up.

Starla turned her attention to Ebony and grimaced. Xavier told her it was really bad, she knew Xavier did it and she understood - whatever they did here, had to be done. You survive the only way you can. But she somehow hadn't been expecting this. She started to feel a little bit queasy. It was poorly bandaged up, and she could see bits of the long, ragged gash sticking out, barely scabbed over. Her stomach turned. Starla wasn't sure at all about what she was doing, but she didn't have a choice. It wasn't now or never - it was now or later. If she wanted to live, this had to come at some point. And the longer she waited, the harder it would get.

She held the cloth firmly in her hand and pressed it over Ebony's mouth. Within seconds, Ebony's eyes snapped open, wild and frightened, but already so weakened, she quickly succumbed. As if she was dying, the light faded from Ebony's eyes, locked on Starla's, until finally her eyelids drooped closed. Done. Gone.

When Starla looked back over her shoulder, the District Twelve girl, the one who wasn't all there, was sitting up right, looking at them. The moonlight reflected off of her wide eyes, making her look like otherworldly. Momentary panic seized Starla, and she leapt up, barely noticing Ebony's head lolling to the side. But a nod from Steller, always calm and collected, instantly put her head back in the game. She handed him the cloth, and he did the same to her. Ellie didn't even put up a fight. She just looked vaguely confused, until her eyes fluttered closed, too.

"Do we take her with us?" Starla breathed, careful not to wake the other two tributes.

"No," Steller replied, automatically. "One hostage is enough. We have to keep this controlled."

Starla nodded, laying the note down as Steller gathered Ebony in his arms, careful not to jostle her bandages. She was really glad Steller came with her instead of Xavier, just this once. No worrying, or fretting, or distracting. Steller was steady, unwavering. He had a clear head. Which was good, considering Starla was starting to feel like she was losing hers.

-::-::-::-::-::-

Ash woke up to someone shaking him - Abbey, he figured, before he remembered where he was. Blearily, he opened his eyes. Ryker's hands grabbed both his shoulders. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"What? Why?"

"Where's Ebony?"

"Wh-what are you t-talking about?"

"Ash, they took Ebony, and Ellie won't wake up. What happened?"

" _What?"_

He was definitely awake now, scrambling over to Ellie's side, shaking her as Ryker shook him just moments before. She didn't stir. He would have woken up if there was a cannon. He placed two fingers to her wrist, checking for a pulse, praying, making sure - and thank god, she was alive. Behind him, he could hear Ryker cursing.

"Shit, shit, this is bad - what _happened_?"

Ash saw a purple-ish smear just under Ellie's lips. Carefully, he brushed his thumb over it, and held it to his nose. He recognized the smell. Just knocked out. Oh, god. But why? By who?

"Ry-Ryker -"

"Is Ellie okay? Is she dead?"

"No, she's just kn-knocked out. Whoever d-did this -"

"It was the careers."

"How do you know?"

"Because they left a goddamned note." He flicked the paper toward Ash, and Ash caught it midair, reading it. _We have Ebony. Come in 24 hours with all your supplies or she's dead. -Careers._

The words hit him like a dull blow. He was sleeping when they left this. He slept through the whole thing when he was supposed to be awake - keeping his friends safe. Guiltily, Ash looked down, realizing Ryker already knew this. Ryker slumped against the tree, miserably.

"She was just here. She was - she was awake yesterday, she was talking to me. Doing better."

"I'm s-sorry."

"Not your fault." It was, but Ash stayed quiet. The bottom of the sky was turning pink-ish. Sun up was almost here. The wind rustled through the trees, and he could already hear a few animals wandering about. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine he was just a normal kid, sitting at the edge of the fence in District Twelve and dreaming about growing older. He'd probably never get to know what that was like.

He wished he could tell Ebony how sorry he was. But just as the thought was forming in his head, Ryker started to get up.

"Wh-what are you doing?"

"I'm going. I don't know where their camp is and I don't have that much time."

"You _can't_ go."

"Ash-"

"No," Ash said, growing frantic. Ryker had been virtually his only company since the Games began and he couldn't do it on his own. "It's suicide either w-way. Either they k-kill you now, or they take your supplies and you st-starve."

"I'm not bringing supplies."

"You're - what?"

"They aren't just mine to give away. They're yours. You're going to need them now."

Ash could feel the ground tilting under him. He only barely realized he was still on his knees, like he was begging Ryker not to go - not to die. He pushed himself to his feet. "So y-you're just going to let them kill you?"

"They don't want the supplies, they were right there in the middle of the ground, they could have taken them."

"So wh-what do they want, then?" Ryker didn't say anything, he just looked at Ash, and it finally sunk in that there wasn't any changing his mind. "W-would she do it f-for you?"

"That's not even the point. That's not even the point at all."

"Y-you don't h-have to go alone."

"No. Stay here with Ellie. Keep her safe."

Ash nodded, not knowing what else he could do. Ryker grabbed a bottle of water, a package of jerky, and his axe and started to go, but Ash knew this couldn't be it. He had to say something else, or he'd regret it forever.

"Ry-Ryker?" Ryker turned around and faced him. "If it was you instead of Ebony, I'd go." He smiled, slightly, and Ash felt his heart surge, wishing none of this had happened at all. He hadn't realized how much he liked Ryker until he was heading towards his death, and now - "Be careful."

And then, Ash watched Ryker walk through the forest until he disappeared behind the hill and Ash couldn't see him at all anymore.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-**

Starla and Xavier sat in the tree, on watch for Ryker coming up the hill. He was pressed against her side, and though she found she liked being near him, she couldn't help but feel too unnerved to enjoy his company. He seemed to sense this, and he tilted her chin up toward his, and kissed her softly. Their second kiss. Starla barely remembered their first one, but she remembered it. She wondered if they'd live long enough to get a third.

Still, she couldn't help but give him a small smile to let him know that yes, she felt the same as he did. But Starla also couldn't help the tears that started to roll down her cheeks. "What? Starla, what is it?" She pointed ahead. Ryker was here. He was far, really far, but she could see him.

"I don't know what I was thinking," she whispered.

"What are you talking about?" His eyes blinked back and forth between her and the spot she pointed to. She climbed down the tree and Xavier climbed down after her. It was time to warn Steller, she knew that, but without helping it, she started to break down into sobs, fighting for air. " _Starla_ ," he said, urgently.

"We're gonna kill him - we're just gonna - I can't do this - I'm so sorry - I -"

"It's okay. Starla, it's alright. You stay here. Don't watch. We'll take care of everything. Just - it's gonna be okay, I'll see you in five minutes. Tops."

She squeezed her eyes shut, and grabbed onto his hand, tightly, lingering until the last minute, until only their fingertips were touching. "Be careful, Xavier, please."

"Five minutes, that's all." And then, he let go.

Suddenly, Starla had a very, very bad feeling about this plan. She shut her eyes, back against the tree, waiting to hear Ryker's screams, knowing that it would be the worst thing she'd ever heard, because they would be all her fault. But with her eyes still closed, she did hear a scream; it wasn't Ryker she heard, though. It was Xavier.


	24. The Plan: Part Two

Steller stood at the ready, sword held firmly in his hand, Xavier next to him, with a mace. He watched Ryker carefully move towards them, tracking each step taken. But it was then that some sort of animal or bug must have nicked his foot or something, because he felt this really, really quick sharp pain but then it was gone. It was enough to make him drop his sword. Steller was about to pick it up when Xavier started screaming.

It was so sudden and frantic that it startled him. There were words coming out of Xavier's mouth, Steller could see them almost forming, but he was so loud and hysterical that they were completely unintelligible. Steller furrowed his eyebrows, confused, momentarily forgetting about Ryker, half-turning to Xavier, who stopped as soon as ir eyes met. He was still standing upright, but pale, clammy looking, and his mouth was open, gaping. Still though, he seemed unharmed - what was going on? What was happening?

And then, Starla came rushing down the hill, screeching Xavier's name, but she went quiet as soon as she was in eyesight of them, stopping so abruptly she almost tripped. What the hell? Even Ryker was just standing, as pale and clammy as Xavier, and no one was moving. Steller even heard Starla moan. But wait - didn't Ryker have an ax in his hand before?

His ears started getting fuzzy, and then the sky tilted backwards, and he fell to the ground with a heavy thud. It was only when he tried to lift his head that he saw the axe handle sticking out of his abdomen. Oh. So that was why. Lifting his head was suddenly too much work, and soon all he could see was the blue, blue sky.

In a separate part of his mind, one that was quickly shutting down, Steller knew that he must have been in shock. He felt Starla try in vain to put gauze on the wound - oh, Xavier must have taken out the axe, he didn't even notice - but he caught her wrist. "My fault," she whispered, "it's all my fault." If he could speak, he'd tell her that that wasn't true at all. Xavier was saying his name, but it faded into the sounds of the woods.

With a pang of sadness, Steller realized this meant he'd never get to do what he wanted - he'd never kill Snow and end this all, end this terrible, terrible suffering. This had always been a possibility, but it seemed strange that all his planning had failed so suddenly and simply. But someone else would end it, he knew. Someone would find a way. And maybe it went beyond that, maybe it was more than just one person, and one ruler. But the Games couldn't last forever. There have been lengths of terrible suffering throughout history, but they have always come to an eventual end, somehow. Someone would stop it. He tried to let that be the last thing he held on to.

-::-::-::-::-::-

The cannon fired the moment Steller's hand went limp in Starla's. "No. Oh no, no no. It's my fault, it's all my fault, I -"

"Starla," Xavier said, hoarse, raw.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry -"

" _Starla_ ," he said again, more insistently, his hand on her shoulder. Starla looked at him, and then at Ryker, still frozen, looking as if he may be sick. It must have been his first kill in the Games. But Xavier was holding Ryker's axe. They could end it now, enact the plan she'd made, but now it felt like a cold stone had sunk to the bottom of her stomach - she couldn't do it. And from the look on Xavier's face, it seemed he was leaving it up to her.

"Go," Starla said, quietly.

"Huh?" Ryker said, mouth still hinged open.

"Just take her and go." He hesitated for a moment, and then reached out for his axe. They should have kept it from him, but none of them could think. It slipped smoothly from Xavier's hand. Steller's eyes gazed unblinkingly at the sky.

Ryker used the axe to cut the rope, and then, carrying her like a bride, he went off into the forest. Starla wanted to tell him she was sorry, that this wasn't who she was. She wanted to tell Ryker that even though he killed Steller, she knew they would have killed him, that she understood that this wasn't who he was either.

But what would have been the point? She stood up on shaky legs, and Xavier put his arm around her. Just hours before, she and Steller were working as a team, side by side. Now he was dead.

From behind them, Sasha's voice sounded, cutting and spitting. "What the _hell_?" Slowly, fear rolling underneath Starla's skin, she turned to face Sasha. In her eyes, Starla could see the same gleam she had that day by the river. "Starla, what were you thinking?"

"I'm sorry," she said, uselessly. She could never be sorry enough.

"Tell that to Steller. There were supposed to be three people waiting for him. And then, now that Steller's dead, you just let Ryker _go_? So that Steller died for nothing."

"I'm _sorry_."

"Sorry? Sorry doesn't fix anything."

Starla and Xavier saw it at the same time, as Sasha's hand wheeled back. The blade of her shuriken, glinting in the sunlight.

" _No!_ " Xavier yelled, hurling his mace and hitting her squarely in the side of the head. She went down with a quick thud, whimpering one feeble, "Help me," before her cannon fired. Blood pumping with adrenaline, he turned to Starla.

All the breath rushed out of his body in one quick gasp. Sticking straight out of her chest was the shuriken Sasha just threw. She blinked a few times, looking startled and vaguely confused, and then she began to fall.

"No - no, please. Please, no, please, please, no," Xavier said, frantically. Just before she hit the ground, he caught her, cradling her in his arms, holding her to him. With a shaking hand, he pulled the shuriken out of her chest, and Starla threw her head back and screamed, screamed, the worst sound he ever heard, and the forest echoed back, _your fault, your fault, your fault_.

When she stopped, there was blood trickling out of the corner of her mouth, and big, hot tears rolling down her face. "I'm sorry," she whispered, the third time in the past two minutes, like a broken record.

"What? What are you sorry for?"

"It was Sasha, by the lake - she - she stabbed me, and I didn't tell you." Her voice was barely a whisper, and desperately he pressed his hand to her chest, trying to put pressure on the wound, but all he felt was her blood - _Starla's blood_ \- staining his fingers.

He had so many questions, but now was not the time to waste words. "Just don't speak. You're - you're going to be alright," he said, knowing he was lying, feeling tears of his own start to brim. Her eyes started to glaze over. "Starla, don't, please don't." She focused on him again.

"Xavier?"

"I'm here."

"Okay," she whispered, with the shaky attempt at a smile.

He blinked the blurriness out of his eyes. If this was their last moment, he couldn't waste it crying. But he didn't know what to say. "I wish we met somewhere else." And then, he shook his head, knowing that wanting something so badly couldn't make it true. Her head started to loll back, so he slung his arm around her neck, trying to help her look at him.

But as soon as he met her eyes, the cannon fired. He looked at her, trying to believe it was someone else's cannon, that somebody else had died, that just like the last time, she would recover, and open her eyes again, and kiss him softly and shyly, like she did only three days ago, in the late afternoon sunlight. He really didn't know what to do.

After a moment longer holding on to her, pressing her to his chest, he let her go. Every part of him was screaming at him to do something, to save her, to turn the hours back to last night. But instead, he stood up slowly, taking one final, longing look at her. He thought he'd feel something else, some kind of desire to kiss her cold lips, say something to her dead body, but it was only that - her body. She wasn't sleeping, she was dead. Starla was gone. In the end, he didn't want to say anything; he just wanted to leave.

Slowly, mace in hand, he trudged up the hill. The last of the careers. In a matter of minutes, all his allies had died. Xavier felt numb. And when he got to the top, he saw the District Six girl, Rose, and the District Five boy, Zender, were rifling through their stash. His mace was still in his hand and he raised it, hesitant to throw it for whatever reason.

But Rose must have had a good ear, because she perked up as soon as she sensed him and elbowed Zender, hard.

"I'm not afraid to kill you," he said

Rose said nothing, giving no sign of fear, though he thought Zender might have trembled a bit. "Where are your friends?"

He almost lied, but he didn't have it in him. "Gone," Xavier said.

"You can't take on both of us."

"I can certainly try."

Rose took a deep breath, like she was steadying herself for something, and Xavier didn't know what his deal was. It was time to kill them. Kill or be killed. If the Xavier from two months ago, training like mad, could see him now, he wondered what he would think.

"Why don't you come with us?"

"Are you kidding me?" Xavier said, holding his mace directly in front of him.

"You're a good fighter, right? And you're alone now," she said, a little more gently. Xavier looked over his shoulder down the hill to where Starla laid dead. His heart clenched a little bit, and he felt his face start to contort with tears, but he made sure to control himself before turning back around.

"Look, we could use the supplies, so either we fight for it, or you join us. We're prepared for either." Xavier put his mace down and Rose gave the slightest satisfied little smile. "Okay, then."

He slung two packs around his shoulders and followed them. As he walked away, he could hear the hovercrafts lowering, taking his only friends with them.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-**

Each step Ryker took felt heavier and heavier as he trudged back to camp with Ebony in his arms. The sun had come up by then, and it was hot on his back. Almost immediately after he was completely out of sight of the Careers, he heard two more cannons. He can only guess it was them. But none of that mattered. By some miracle, he was still alive, and so was Ebony.

But the look on Steller's face when he was dying… Ryker hoped he'd never have to see something so horrible again. He knew that before these Games were over though, he'd have to. Finally, after an hour and a half of walking, he got to his camp. Without looking at the rest of his allies, he carefully lay Ebony down, letting her sleep in peace. Almost as soon as he stood up, Ash's arms were thrown around him.

"Ryker! A-are you okay?" he asked, sounding almost teary. Without even consciously doing it, Ryker sunk into the hug.

"Yeah, I'm not hurt. You?"

"Fine." Ash pulled away, smiling, and Ryker couldn't help but smile back. "I - I thought -"

"I know."

"But th-the cannons -"

"I don't know. They just let me go after I…" Ryker broke off, looking down, guiltily. "After I killed one of them."

"I'm really glad y-you're okay. I didn't think I'd ev-ever see you ag-gain," Ash said, and then he smiled even wider. Ryker felt a surge of affection for Ash well up inside him. He hadn't thought of Ash as a friend until now, but he did know that he wouldn't have been able to do any of this without him. He hadn't expected to make it back, but he did. Now he just had to keep doing the same thing, making it back from whatever battles he would be called to.

He could worry about that later, though. For now, he was just going to be grateful that he and his friends were safe and together. For where they were, he couldn't have asked for anything else.


	25. Misfire

Rose felt a little guilty allying with Xavier without consulting Zender, but he didn't seem to care that much. In truth, she should have killed him. She was still puzzling out why she didn't. He was so quiet the whole day, and Rose knew he could turn on them at any moment, and they probably wouldn't be ready to fight him. But, god, he'd looked so terrible - red-rimmed eyes, pale, paler than he'd been during training, and he didn't sleep. Rose was on watch, and she saw him turned against the tree, eyes blinking. She could tell he was crying by the quiet gasps coming from where he lay. Rose could sense the same resignation Jack, her district partner, had had in Xavier now.

She came to the Games to fight, but fighting someone who's already given up? She wanted to save her district, but she also wanted the glory that came with it. Did this really deserve it? She used to think so. But did she deserve more glory than Ari if she made it through? What was troubling her the most was going over everybody's stories in her head. Ari had been braver than all of them, maybe, and Zender had Alex back at home, he'd told her in whispers the night before, and she could remember the tributes who had little siblings, families to take care of, tributes who had lived lives before coming here. Even Xavier had the District One girl.

But Rose? Her whole entire life had been spent trying to train for the Games. That was all she had to say for herself. Where was her story? Why had that been taken from her? And how hadn't she noticed?

 **-::-::-::-::-::-**

The morning their alliance was severed, Anchora and Hazel realized that they were out of supplies. No food, no water, nothing. They'd had one pack and a few things scrounged from the first night and the Games had been going for a week and a half. It was only a matter of time. Anchora had reached into their bag, felt around desperately for anything other than wrappers, and then looked up and solemnly shook his head. They'd kept themselves alive by staying hidden in a cave, away from the fighting that had been going on, but now they had to leave. It was that or starve.

So they left. And only a few hours later, they were running away.

Warden Sandler, the District Ten boy was running them down, chasing them, knife pointed at the ready. Following closely in tow was Zeek, the twelve-year-old from Nine, who was having a little trouble keeping up, but not much. Hazel didn't know how long she and Anchora had been running, but if she had to take a guess, she'd say about an hour. It probably would have gone on longer than that, but just when it looked like they'd had lost their pursuers, Hazel tripped, hearing a crack in her ankle and feeling an instant rush of pain. She cried out, and Anchora stopped, backtracking, slinging her arm around his shoulder as she limped.

But he couldn't carry both of them. Collapsing to the ground again, Hazel heaved, all the exhaustion catching up with her at once, emptying the small contents of her stomach while her ankle pulsed with pain. Warden and Zeek were nowhere in sight. She looked up at Anchora through the curtain of her hair, greasy with sweat. "Go. I can't - just go, Anchora." She was trying to be brave, trying to sacrifice herself, but in truth, she was scared and she didn't want to be alone.

It looked like he was debating it. His feet shifted away. They'd ran out into some sort of field, and Hazel felt naked, like everyone could see them without the shelter of the cave, or the trees. But Anchora shook his head. Hazel took a few deep breaths, trying to ease her nausea. After a few moments, she said, "I think we lost them."

Anchora wordlessly - always, always wordlessly - helped Hazel to her feet and they started slowly making their way across the field. They were probably about halfway through when Warden and Zeek broke through the forest and came bounding after them. She felt Anchora tense next to her, and though Hazel was still trembling with fear, she knew what she had to do. "Anchora, go. You have to go," she said, just as Warden stopped about a yard away from her, hand gripping his knife. Hazel pulled her knife out of her boot.

And after just a moment of hesitation, Anchora did what he was told and turned on his heel and started running. Warden, startled by the sudden movement, without even thinking about it, flinged his knife toward the motion. Hazel watched helplessly as it hit Anchora square in the back. Anchora stopped, wobbled a second, and then collapsed onto his side. She clenched her jaw as she crawled over to him. He was trying to say something to her. His lips were moving, and she could see the effort in his furrowed brow. But either from the lack of use of voice for so many years, or the knife sticking out of his back, no sound came out. When his cannon fired, his mouth was still hanging open, in the middle of some silent word.

Hazel didn't know why Warden didn't just kill her when her back was turned. Maybe he was affording her a moment of grief, or maybe he wanted a fight. But when she turned around, she wasn't grief-stricken. She was pissed. She didn't even register at first that Warden was empty handed - he had thrown his only knife into Anchora's back. Well, two could play at his game.

She noticed Zeek had tugged on Warden's shirt, eyes round with terror, as he pointed a shaky finger at Hazel's knife. But, with her mind clouded with anger, all she wanted to know was how to make Warden hurt as bad as she did. So she clutched her knife, and did the exact same thing Warden did - she threw it at his ally, the young boy.

But she wasn't as trained as Warden was, she didn't have a sword, and she could see as soon as it left her hand that it hadn't hit the kid right. The wound would be fatal, but slow, and painful. Warden's face was stricken as if he'd been hit instead. Zeek was screaming as soon as he was being carried away.

Hazel took more deep breaths. In, out, in, out, oh god, why, why, please, in, in, make this stop, make this end, out, out, in, out. Nothing was right. Nothing. She sat in the field, unable to move, prying the knife out of her dead friend's back, feeling his blood - still warm - drip onto her knees. She didn't want to look at her ankle. As the hovercraft came and she crawled away, watching him being taken up, Hazel had a feeling that the battle she'd just had with Warden wasn't over.

-::-::-::-::-::-

Warden whipped past trees, until he was far, far away from the field, away from anyone who could cause Zeek more harm. It was his fault. He should have taken care of Zeek, he should have been less careless. He should have just stayed out of sight. Zeek was screaming, sobbing, writhing around. Gently, as gentle as he could, Warden set Zeek down and pulled out the knife, causing another shriek.

"It hurts, it _hurts_!" His eyes were closed, and he was in so, so much pain, but Warden knew already that there was nothing he could do to save him. "I want my brother!" Zeek screamed. "I want my mom!"

"Just - just hang on, Zeek, I'm gonna fix it, just -" Warden broke off. No matter how badly he wanted not to do it, he knew he had no choice. "Just hang on." The more time he wasted, the harder it was for Zeek. He had to do this. It would be cruel if he didn't.

He raised the already bloodied knife, crying, and plunged it into Zeek's chest. There was a whimper, a little moan, and then a cannon. He was nothing like the District Three girl. He was dead on.

-::-::-::-::-::-

Reel was running. He'd been so lucky. A thirteen-year-old rarely made it past the first week, let alone unharmed and without allies. He'd tricked himself into thinking he was safe. He was so surprised no one had claimed the cornucopia, so he set up his camp. All the leftover weapons and packs were saved for him. He could still smell the blood, though. The scent of blood didn't leave.

His plan was to stay there, hidden, for as long as he could, but when he saw two girls - he forgot their names, their districts, he forgot everything about the other tributes - heading his way, he grabbed two packs and bolted into the woods, and he was still running when he stumbled into another tribute, a really tall one, and was sent sprawling to the forest floor. This guy he remembered - he was the only one to talk to Reel at training. Warden. He was covered in blood.

"Please," he said, starting to cry despite himself. "Please don't hurt me." Warden glowered over him, reaching down and grabbing one of Reel's packs.

"Go," was all Warden said. Reel didn't need to be twice. He scooped up his remaining pack and ran, deeper and deeper into the forest.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-**

Xavier knew his new allies didn't trust him. Why should they? They took him because they knew he was a career. He didn't care. He heard them talking as the fire was going, a bit about game plans, about life back home. They'd asked him a few questions, but when they saw he wasn't really interested in conversation, they went back to ignoring him.

What was there to say? He'd spent his whole life training to come here, and for what? What did he use to think the point was? Fame? The way Xavier saw it, if he won, he'd just go back to living the life he had before, but tainted. Harder. He was starting to wonder if there was even any point in caring. He was starting to wonder why he'd even bother winning at all.


	26. Collateral Damage

Ree Joan had been scared her entire life. Scared of getting reaped, scared of knives, scared of herself. She was used to living with the fear choked down deep enough so she could keep on going. But now, lying on the riverbank by the water, unable to move more than a finger, laid bare to any enemy who could come - she was crippled first by weakness, but now the fear was laid bare, and it crippled her, too.

First, she had run. She hadn't grabbed a pack or a weapon, she'd just started running. On day two, she collapsed. When she finally came to, all she could think of was getting water. So, when Ree crawled over to the bank, she greedily slurped the water down without boiling it. It wasn't like she'd had any iodine to purify it, either. She thought she would be fine. But then, she got sick. The only things she'd eaten were a few berries. Luckily, she was near the river, but she was a little too scared now to keep drinking the water.

Day five, a gift from a sponsor came, with a supply of food that kept her alive for days. But it was gone now, and Ree was too ill to move. The food she did eat was thrown up into the grass next to her, and she couldn't do anything but watch as it sunk into the earth. A smooth beetle crawled over the blade of grass and onto her still, outstretched fingers. All Ree had done was watch as the sun rose, as the sun set, as she felt herself shrinking into nothing, nothing, nothing.

She thought, in the end, she would go down bravely, by her own choice, or during a fight, even during the bloodbath, or something stupid like that. But dying was nothing like that, she was realizing. She felt it everywhere - in her bones, draped over her yellowing, clammy skin like a blanket, tangled in her dry and brittle hair, now falling out in pieces. She had been drifting in and out of consciousness for the past two days. She knew that she was nearing the end, but she did not understand it. When she was conscious, life became a confusing muddle, vaguely understood between blurry eyes, half open.

Ree's last conscious thought was merely about how chapped and painful her lips felt. She finally worked up the nerve to go back to the water to drink. She was halfway through dragging herself to the river, her hand dangling in the water, when her cannon fired.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-**

Amy sat inside the cornucopia, her back against the hard metal, and yet, she was more comfortable than she'd been the whole Games. Fairly was in charge of hunting, Amy was in charge of gathering berries. They'd been pretty successful. They worked well together. And Amy _liked_ Fairly; she was more than an ally, it felt. She was the only company Amy had throughout the entire games. She'd been so scared, and so alone that first night, but when she'd bumped into Fairly, Fairly didn't hesitate to help her.

And now, weirdly enough, Amy felt almost safe. Not completely, because you could never really feel safe here, but for the time being, she didn't think she was in immediate danger.

The cornucopia was mainly empty when they'd arrived, but there had been a few packs, and an assortment of knives and one sword left, so they'd made use. A cannon rang out just as Amy was biting into a pack of jerky, and she stiffened. Lately, she'd feared that every time Fairly left to hunt, she might not come back. But, within two minutes, Fairly had crept inside the cornucopia with a dead squirrel. Though they'd never say it to each other, Amy could tell Fairly had the same fear she did.

Silently, Fairly grabbed Amy's hand and squeezed it. She had only just let go when Claudius Templesmith's voice echoed throughout the entire arena. "Attention, tributes. There are only twelve of you left, now." Amy shuddered. That number still seemed so high. "In honor of reaching the halfway point, there will be a feast at the cornucopia in six hours. You'll find the supplies replenished with anything you may need. Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor."

There was a moment of silence before Amy sucked in a breath, and said, "Fairly, that's here."

Without hesitation, Fairly replied, "we have to go. We're okay on supplies right now, but we can't risk getting caught here." So, both of them started frantically grabbing all the supplies they could find and throwing them in their packs. By the time the feast began, they would have to be as far from the cornucopia as possible. But tributes would be coming from all directions, straight towards them. There was no telling who they'd run into.

So, either way, it was time to prepare for a fight.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-**

Zender, Rose, and Xavier made their way to the cornucopia. They were fine on packs, they had all the weapons they needed but Rose decided that there was no point in just wandering around. There were twelve left. If any of them had a shot at winning, they needed to start fighting. Xavier, pretty much indifferent to any plan at this point, agreed. And though Zender seemed frightened, he had someone back home to think about.

So, they were nearly there, and the sun was beginning to set. They had about two minutes until the gong rang out. As soon as the cornucopia was in sight, there was the sound of a growl coming from the bushes. Xavier jumped, brandishing his sword by instinct, but whatever it was jumped out at them, going straight for Rose's ankle. She stifled a scream as Xavier, acting on impulse, sliced the mutt in half, just as another one sank its teeth into his shoulder.

As if in slow motion, Zender watched his allies fall to the ground. He took his bow and shot the mutt cleanly. As it died, it spit a chunk of Xavier's bloody flesh out onto the ground. Zender gagged a little, pressing his hand to his mouth. Rose wasn't hit nearly as badly, though blood was trickling down her ankle. Xavier had acted fast. But Zender hadn't been quick enough for Xavier, who was looking at the piece of his flesh lying at his feet. As if a switch was flipped on inside of him, Xavier, with his eyes white and round, started screaming. Zender tried not to look at the piece of skin missing from Xavier's body as he writhed in agony on the ground.

Rose frantically grabbed her knife, trying to figure what to do, if he could be saved. But Zender heard rustling in the bushes at the same time Rose did - not from a mutt, but from a tribute - and though it was a decent ways off, they realized at the same time that Xavier was acting as a siren, calling every tribute in their vicinity to them. And considering the feast was about to start, that meant that it could be any amount of enemies. They knew what they had to do.

Rose's mouth was trembling and her eyes were watery as they met Zender's and she clutched the knife firmer still in her shaking hands, but Zender gently took it from her. She had helped him with Ari. Now, it was his turn. Xavier was screaming still, loudly, hoarsely, desperately, calling out the names of his dead allies, his mother, begging for help from anyone. He suddenly grabbed Zender's wrist with his good arm and screamed, "Please!" and finally, with one eye shut, Zender plunged the knife into Xavier's chest.

Xavier let out a few whimpers, wheezed a few shallow breaths out, and then fell still. His cannon rang out at almost the same time as the bell for the feast. For a moment, Zender stood up, believing that they could still enact their plan, still take out a few tributes and grab some extra supplies, but then he noticed how pale Rose looked, how wet her sock was with blood, so he acted on the little first aid he'd gotten during training.

He ripped his shirt, wrapping it tightly above Rose's wound, hoping to make an effective tourniquet, and then he scooped her up in his arms. She didn't complain. As they ran, the screams from the feast followed them. At that point, they all sounded like Xavier.


	27. The Feast

Hazel still sat in the same field Anchora died. His blood was still stained on the grass, rusty and brown. She needed food, and badly. If she had sponsors, they weren't making themselves very known. But she tried not to lose hope. Anchora wouldn't have wanted her to give up, so she kept convincing herself that any moment she could get better, though in a deeper sense, she knew that there wasn't anything she could do but wait.

She would have gone to the feast, but it was clear her leg was infected. She could walk on it, but barely, and if she needed to fight, which she probably would have had she gone, then there was no way. Besides, she'd have collapsed before she got there.

She comforted herself with the fact that everyone else would be there, that she wouldn't have to worry about fighting for at least an hour. But that seemed to ring false when she saw a stocky figure lumbering in her direction. She blinked the sunlight out of her eyes. It was clear after a moment that it was Warden Sandler, and Hazel felt her blood boil. So he'd come to take revenge for the kid. She was sorry she'd killed him, a little, but she would have no qualms about Warden. She wanted revenge, too.

Hazel was suddenly flooded with adrenaline. Even though there was a sharp, piercing pain in her leg as she stood up, it was distant and far away. Less pressing than the present. She grabbed the knife she'd had next to her. For a moment, she found it funny. She had the knife he'd thrown into Anchora, he had the knife she'd thrown into the boy. They were holding the murder weapons of their allies. She only wished she had a sword instead.

Warden stopped in front of Hazel, just as he had done days ago. "You know," he said, running his finger over the tip of his knife, "back in District Ten, I was a butcher. And when I took the animals out back -" Hazel lunged for him, slashing his shoulder. He cried out in pain before controlling himself, hardening his face. "Okay, fine. Let's do it that way."

Warden slashed at Hazel's face, and she felt the shock of warm blood trickling back into her ear, making her hearing clogged and gummy. She aimed for his heart, but he dodged. She still got his arm, and he roared in pain and tackled her to the ground. Hazel wasn't too large to begin with, and after days of little food, she went down easily. He pressed his hands to her neck, and for a moment, Hazel couldn't move, couldn't free herself from his grip. She tried in vain to suck in any air, but he'd cut off her oxygen flow entirely.

"I had to be the one to do it!" Warden yelled. "I had to kill him!" Black spots started to swim in her vision. It would be so easy to surrender now, to let him kill her, but she used the strength she had left to knee him in the crotch. His grip loosened immediately, and Hazel dove for his knife, but he clocked her on the back of the head before she could do it. Grabbing both of his legs with her arms, she pulled him back to the ground with a thud. She managed to get a stab wound on his back, but as quickly as she did that, he got her in the stomach. She felt herself weakening, but she couldn't give up.

Anchora wouldn't have given up. He managed to get himself on top of her again, but this wasn't a good move. She plunged the knife into his chest - he was done for, that much was clear, but she must have missed the heart, because though his blood was gushing freely now, all over her, and though he was already growing whiter and whiter, with newfound strength, he wrapped his hands around her throat again. Hazel clawed at him desperately, digging her nails into his arms, but he wouldn't free her.

She tried to reach for her knife, which he had knocked out of her hands, but it was useless. Even as the light started fading from his eyes, his grip grew firmer still. Her vision swam. She felt herself relinquishing to the darkness. During their fight, two cannons had fired, from the feast presumably, so when the third fired, Hazel figured it was from the feast as well, but for a moment, her sight focused again, and she saw Warden, his eyes unseeing, unblinking, his chest still, and yet, his hands had not loosened, as if he'd fixed them permanently around her. Desperately, with the last bit of strength she had left, Hazel tried to pry his fingers off of her, but it was no use, for the darkness took her before she could even lift free his pinkie finger from the iron grasp. By the time her cannon fired, her hands were wrapped around his, as if they weren't fighting, but embracing, instead.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-**

Amy and Fairly trudged along, not walking, but not running, either. They were, for the most part, out of danger. Every time a cannon fired, Fairly felt herself flinch. By her count, there had been five, if you included the one from just before the bell rang out. So, the feast must have been a success. Fairly was doubly glad they left - that they weren't in the middle of that.

That put them down to - what, seven? Which means, excluding her and Amy, there were five left. For the first time, Fairly could see an end in sight. She tried not to get her hopes up, though. Focusing on survival had gotten her this far, and it would have to get her through whatever was to come. She'd been astoundingly lucky thus far, but luck ran out, and she knew she was on borrowed time, especially for a District Eight tribute.

"Where are we going?" Amy suddenly said, interrupting Fairly's thoughts.

"Dunno. We'll figure it out. Need help carrying anything?"

Amy half shrugged under the two packs she had perched on her shoulders. Her breaths were getting more labored, but Fairly could see she wanted to tough it out."I got it." They walked in silence for a few more minutes, until a shrill, terrible screech stopped them both dead in their tracks. For a long moment, Fairly felt unable to move. Another one sounded. Another. "Where are they coming from?" Amy yelled as the screeching got louder.

"Those aren't human." Fairly held her breath, petrified. But she couldn't afford a moment of fear, not here, not now, so she shook herself out of it, and pulled a knife from inside her pack. "Amy, go," she yelled. The screeching was so loud, it seemed like it was coming from all around them.

"What about you?" Amy yelled back, but Fairly could see the desire to run in her eyes.

"I'll come find you, okay? But right now, I need you to run. Take the packs."

Amy didn't need to be told twice. She took off, sprinting, and Fairly tried to take note of the direction she'd gone in, in the slim chance that she'd still be around to find her. She tried to say a silent, quick goodbye. Finally, the screeching stopped as if blown away by a gust of wind, and the creature came lumbering towards her.

If she had to say, Fairly guessed that the creature beared the most resemblance to a gorilla, or an ape. Dripping from its teeth was green, gooey liquid. Fairly wondered what it had eaten to maintain that effect, but then realized she had bigger things to worry about. Much, much bigger. Wasting no time, she dived, plunging her knife into the creature's chest.

It didn't even flinch. Oh, god. She felt herself starting to lose it - but she couldn't lose her head now, she had to _focus_ , but god, why would they send something she couldn't kill? Were they just trying to take her out? Make sure a fan favorite would win? She dove again for the arm, and as she pulled the knife out, the creature sunk its teeth into her shoulder. Fairly screamed, pulling her knife again and stabbing it directly in the back.

And like some switch was flipped, the mutt whimpered, let out another screech that sent Fairly flying into the tree behind her. She groaned, watching through half-lidded eyes as the creature stumbled off into the forest, her knife still hanging out of its back. She tried to hold on, but the hit on her head rattled her, and the last thing she saw was the creature stalk off in the direction Amy had run in.

By the time she woke up again, the sun had set. Fairly winced, furrowing her brow. It left? It had just left her there, defenseless and unconscious? That felt too easy, but she wasn't going to complain now. She winced as she touch the wound on her shoulder.

It wasn't bleeding too bad, but there was a bit of the green goo dripping out of it that made Fairly feel a bit ill. She ripped off a piece of her shirt, wrapping it firmly around the wound, and then gathered her bearings. Amy had taken the packs, but Fairly had some weapons left. She picked them up off the ground, and started warily walking in the direction she'd seen Amy run. She had a vague memory of the creature heading that way, but it was blurry and distant. Still, she hurried faster.

After about ten minutes of walking around and calling out as loudly as Fairly would dare, it became clear - Amy was gone.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-**

Ebony was really glad to be back on her feet. Sliced open, kidnapped, knocked out, all these things that she hadn't pictured the night before the Games. She really thought she would've had more of a chance than that - but thanks to Ryker, she did. Ebony had to admit, she wasn't too thrilled about Ash and Ellie. She hadn't wanted one ally, let alone three, but they'd helped her. She could have been dead three times over by now.

It hadn't been easy getting her strength back, though, and she still wasn't fully there. But when the feast was announced, she'd insisted they go. They compromised - she and Ryker would go, Ash and Ellie would stay. She had to say, they'd grown on her.

One night, Ebony couldn't explain it, but she found herself crying. For everything she'd lost, for the innocence she'd never be able to get back, because even after she told him not to, Ryker had saved her, and now one of them would die, and she'd just have to deal with that. She'd tried not to wake anyone, but Ash rubbed his eyes and sat up, looking at her for a second. Then, wordlessly, he got up and sat down next to her. For a moment, the only sounds were her whimpering and Ryker's soft snoring.

"Sorry," she'd whispered, when she'd calmed down.

"L-light sleeper," was all Ash said in response. "Wanna t-talk about it?"

Ebony shook her head and Ash nodded, but he didn't go back to sleep. All he did was grab her hand, squeeze it, and then, he just leaned back against the tree.

"I'll t-take watch early. G-gets harder during the nights. You should get some sl-sleep."

Ebony was too tired to fight, but when she woke and tried to thank him, he just shrugged and blushed. He wasn't too happy either when they decided to go the feast. She'd heard him and Ryker discussing it in hushed tones when they thought she was asleep - "Every time you d-do this, like w-with the careers, I j-just have to wait for the c-cannons to f-fire, and I n-never know if you're c-coming back or not." - and she felt a little guilty. She'd catch some of the glances Ryker and Ash exchanged, and the subtle touches they shared - a hand on the back, a comforting smile, even sometimes in the foggy place between dreaming and sleep, she'd seen them hugging before exchanging places for watch. She felt bad for separating them, especially when Ash seemed so terrified of Ryker dying.

But they were running low on supplies, and Ebony was tired of feeling like dead weight. If there were only twelve left, that meant she and her allies made up a third of the remaining tributes. That thought made her feel uneasy.

Eventually, it would come down to them, and if it did - well, then, that just meant they'd have to turn on each other. She didn't want to give them a reason to turn on her first. And even though she couldn't imagine any of them hurting each other, she knew that the desire to survive could make anyone do anything. So, here she was with Ryker, crouched behind trees, waiting for the bell to ring. But a cannon rang out first. Ebony was startled for a second, her breath catching, but then Ryker took off running and she knew it was time to go. Still, something didn't feel right. She lingered near the trees.

It was eerily empty. Despite the cannon that just rang out, they seemed to be the only people there. Ebony was confused, on edge. She had been preparing for a fight. But nobody showed up. Ryker didn't seem to notice - he was too busy gathering supplies, making sure they had what they needed.

Ebony realized they weren't alone the same time she realized it was too late.

The thirteen-year-old boy from District Eleven, Reel, was creeping towards Ryker with a spear. Ebony was too far to stop him, to throw her weapon, so she started running towards them, knowing that she wouldn't make it in time. Ryker had saved her so many times, too many times, he'd risked his life for her, and she had to save him, she had to do _something_ , she couldn't just let this kid do him in. Reel raised his spear.

"No!" Ebony shouted, and she saw Reel jump, and unthinkingly, throw his spear. She felt it hit her, but she didn't feel any pain. For a moment, she was just confused, and then she felt her face pressed into the grass and she understood.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-**

It was dark when finally Fairly found Amy, asleep, curled under a tree, using one of the packs as her pillow. She gently shook her awake, and instantly Amy burst into tears, throwing her arms around Fairly. "I thought - I thought you were -"

"I know, I know."

Shakily, Amy pulled away and lifted her pant leg, showing the bloody bandage sloppily wrapped around her ankle. "It found me."  
Fairly was confused. She'd stood face to face with that thing and escaped with her life - and Amy did, too? She didn't understand at all. But for now, she decided to just be grateful.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-**

Without thinking, Ryker swung the axe into Reel, not even realizing how young he was, only understanding that it was him or Reel, and Reel fell, instantly his cannon firing. As soon as he saw the boy - still, unmoving, skin stained ruby - he sprinted over to where Ebony lay, face down in the grass. Her cannon hadn't gone off yet, she'd survived, she'd already lived through so much, she'd be fine, she'd - he pulled the spear out, hearing a gasp of pain, and then carefully, he flipped her over. There was blood dripping out the corner of her mouth.

"Ebony? C'mon, Ebony."

Slowly and painfully, she opened her eyes, and blinked up at him. "I think we're even now."

"You're gonna be fine, okay? Just - just -" he felt his face contort with tears, and he looked away for a second.

"Please don't cry," she whispered, and he tried to stop, but the tears fell anyway, fat and heavy, dripping onto her face. He expected her to say something, something he'd remember, something befitting a final moment. But her eyes slid to the right, and the cannon boomed and that was it. That was how Ebony Grail left the world.

Ryker stayed, hands holding her shoulders, for a long minute. Slowly, he took his bloody fingers and closed her eyes, leaving two red marks down her face. As if on autopilot, he stood up, gathered four packs, and a collection of weapons and began the long walk back to camp. He could hear the hovercraft coming down behind him to get the bodies, but he didn't dare look.

It took an hour, and maybe he was going slower than he needed to, but Ryker couldn't focus on anything except one foot in front of the other. Two cannons fired as he walked, and each felt like a bullet hole. When he finally got to camp, Ash's eyes were red-rimmed, and Ryker felt a pang of regret. Ash was right - of course he was right. Ryker wished he'd listened. He could imagine Ash sitting there, hearing five cannons - what else would he expect? But the questions were too much to process, and Ryker felt everything start to go numb.

"Ryker? Wh-what happened?"

The weapons rolled out of his hands and he let the packs fall to the ground. "Ebony, she- she-"

The weight of the day, the month, of everything he had seen, everything he'd had to do, everyone he'd had to kill, fell on him at once. He fell to his knees, and before long, Ash's arms were wrapped around him as he cried. Ryker dug his fingers into the dirt. He tried to grab it, punch the earth, as if that was to blame for everything, but Ash caught his wrist.

"I can't - Ash, I - it's my fault, I -"

He heard Ash crying, too, maybe just as hard as he was and he stopped struggling, instead, turning around and hugging Ash back, letting both of them cry into the others' shoulders. Over Ash's back, he watched as Ellie curled into a ball, held her hands over her ears and screamed. Everything hurt, everything, and he could feel his allies mirroring his emotions back to him, and even though nothing was okay, not remotely okay - and maybe nothing would be okay again - he didn't think he'd ever felt closer to anybody else in his whole life.


	28. It's Not Your Fault

Ryker woke, bleary-eyed in the morning, to the sound of a cannon. It was strange. The sun still came up in the morning, nothing looked any different, and yet, everything had changed. He had lost an ally. He had lost a friend. And at this point, he knew those losses would only grow. Ash kept looking at him last night like he was waiting for Ryker to say something.

But Ryker didn't think there was anything to say that would make sense. They'd all fallen asleep without figuring out watch, exhausted from the emotion of the day. Ryker didn't get up for a while after opening his eyes. He wanted to stay in that blurred state between dream and sleep where things could be real and not real at the same time, where the air tasted sweet, and where he could imagine he was at home.

But Ash shook him out of it. "Ry-Ryker."

"What?" Ryker said, slowly sitting up. "What is it?"

"Ellie's gone."

 **-::-::-::-::-::-**

Rose had passed out as Zender was carrying her away, and when she woke again, the only thing she was able to register was the warmth. It had been so cold in the arena - oh, right. The arena. Rose was in the arena. Once she remembered that, it all came back to her. The feast. The mutt. They killed Xavier. He was dead. Zender killed him.

Rose opened her eyes. It was almost night time. The sky was darkening. Next to her was a fire, which would explain the warmth. Sitting to her left, hands wrapped around his knees, was Zender. Without looking at her, he said, "I wasn't sure if you'd ever wake up. Should've spent more time in first aid." It had the cadence of a joke, but there wasn't any heart behind it. Wincing, Rose sat up. "It's just us now."

"Yeah."

There was a moment of silence, the fire crackling, the sparks dancing in Zender's eyes. "Thank you," Rose said, suddenly. She tried to put as much feeling into it as possible, but she knew it wasn't enough. Zender just gave a noncommittal hum in response. "What?" Rose asked. "What is it?"

"Nothing." He glanced at her, and then back to the fire.

"Zender -"

"I killed my ally. I said before coming here that I wasn't going to do that. I'd do what I needed to survive, but I wouldn't betray anyone, and now I -"

"It wasn't your fault. He said 'Please.' He was asking you to kill him."

"Or begging me to help him."

Rose was quiet. She didn't really know what to say to that. She closed her eyes, readjusting. "It doesn't matter," she said, only realizing she meant it once the words were out of her mouth.

For the first time, Zender looked at her dead-on, half-horrified. "What do you mean it doesn't matter? That's someone's life I just ended - that's someone's child."

"It doesn't matter," she said, more persistently. "I just mean, that whatever we do here, it's not on us."

"What are you talking about?"

"If Xavier had been attacked by, I don't know, some wild animal or whatever, back in Seven. Wouldn't you have helped him? If you were anywhere else but here, wouldn't you have tried to help him?"

"But I didn't help him." He was just as stubborn as she was.

"I don't know what to say. I don't know if there's anything I can say. And maybe you don't believe me, but Zender, you're not a killer. It's not your fault that you don't want to die."

For a moment, his face contorted with tears, with wild despair, a look that tore at Rose's heart. Within a moment, he was back to normal, but Rose could see that she'd gotten through to him, at least a little. For now, that was the most she could have asked for.

She watched as four birds cawed, circling overhead. Then six. Then eight. It was almost mesmerizing, watching nature at work. But then she felt Zender tense beside her. "Mutts," he said.

" _Again_?" Rose's heart started thudding hard against her chest.

"There's only six of us left - there was a cannon this morning. And my guess is after the feast, no one's going on the hunt right now - what else are they supposed to do?"

Unsteadily, Rose got to her feet. As soon as she did, the birds dived down fast. Behind her, Zender shouted, "Run!"

So she ran. She could hear Zender's labored breathing as he tried to outrun the birds, too. And she heard his grunt as he fell. Against her instincts, Rose turned on her heel just in time to watch one of the birds sink it's pointy beak into Zender's shoulder. He screamed.

"No," she said, but nothing was listening. The birds dug into his skin, weirdly leaving her alone. And then, as he dug a bloody hand into the ground, trying to pull himself forward, and as Rose lunged forward to grab his hand and help him, a bird dug its beak into his back. A cannon fired. Zender's eyes stared up at her, glassy and lifeless. The birds swarmed him, eager for some fresh food.

Time seemed to slow down as Rose made her decision. She realized that the gamemakers only needed one to die, hoping to use this as a catalyst to propel Rose into action. She could go if she wanted. But she realized something else, too - what had her life amounted to? What had she been training for since she was a kid? This, this right here. Well, she didn't _want_ it anymore. She wanted to take it back. She wanted her _life_ back. She wanted to start over as a kid and get it right.

She couldn't do that, she knew. And wanting wasn't going to help her. But Zender had a family at home, and a boyfriend, and friends. They wouldn't want to see a mutilated body. If she only did one thing right in her life, let it be this. Let this be the glory she had so long sought after. Without thinking of it any further, Rose threw herself onto him, felt the birds start to stab at her instead.

Through blurry vision, she could see her wrist laying limply in front of her. The blue beaded bracelet Ivory gave her. She'd saved her at least, even if she couldn't save Zender, even if she couldn't save herself. Rose hoped that maybe one life spared was enough - that in her final moments, knowing that amidst the death and ruin she'd been barrelling towards, that she'd somehow saved this one girl would be enough for her.

 **-::-::-::-::-::-**

Ryker and Ash sat side by side as the faces of the District Five boy and the District Six girl flashed in the sky. Moment of truth - they waited on bated breath to see who the next face was going to be. Ryker closed his eyes. When he heard Ash inhale, sharply as if he'd been stung, or slapped, Ryker knew it was Ellie's face. He only saw it for the briefest second when he opened his eyes, realizing that was probably the last time he would ever see Ellie's face.

Ryker turned his head over to Ash, who was looking very pale. "Ash -"

"I'm t-tired. I think I'm g-gonna go to sl-sleep."

They had searched all day for her, but it felt like they'd already known it was her cannon in the morning. Ryker wondered if they'd ever find out what happened to her. Maybe one of them would. But not both. Their stock of supplies was now more than they'd need for the rest of the Games. Now, they had their allies' share too. But Ryker knew they'd both trade the supplies in a heartbeat for the lives of their friends.

Four left. If he was keeping track correctly, it was the District Eight girl and the twelve-year-old from Four. Well, he wondered what was in store for them in the morning. As he laid awake, as he heard Ash crying softly into his sleeping bag, Ryker thought of how the Games could be over tomorrow. But he was starting to realize that no matter who won, they would never really leave this arena. He was starting to wonder if anyone ever did.


	29. It'll Be Okay in the Morning

Amy had been sullen and quiet for the past day and a half. Sometimes she'd smile, or say something nice, and Fairly would think she was getting back to normal, but then other times she'd gripe at Fairly, refuse to help, stubbornly stand with her arms crossed. Weirdly, Fairly didn't feel much like talking either. She actually found herself arguing back at Amy, but she couldn't quite understand why. Just days before they'd been a functional team. Now, all of a sudden, they were falling apart.

Maybe it was just that they were down to the final four, and nothing was happening. Every part of Fairly was on edge. They'd been moving around camp, really for an excuse to keep busy. Inexplicably, Fairly found herself thinking back to Shallow. If she won, which was starting to look like a real possibility, she'd have to see his dad at the Victor's Tour. She couldn't save his son. She couldn't save anyone. She could barely even save herself.

Wouldn't they all hate her, just a bit, for being the one standing there while their child wasn't? In a way, her district partner had been all she had to remind herself of her district - it was more than a token could ever mean. But he died - he was gone. Maybe that's why she felt so far from District Eight for the entirety of the Games.

And if she won, that meant Amy would die. Would she have to stand there in front of her parents? How would she be able to bear that? She hadn't planned on this - on having a friend in the arena, someone that the thought of losing just… What would she do if it came down to her and Amy? What would happen? She couldn't kill her friend. But Fairly didn't know if she could bring herself to end her own life, to sacrifice that much.

She imagined standing there at the victory tour, shaking hands with the parents of the people she killed - even if she didn't kill them, she would have killed them by winning. That was how she felt. She knew Amy was younger than her, but she was a kid too. Why did she have to think about sacrificing herself at all, why was she here, why would she have to decide these things?

If she went back, maybe they'd judge her, because Fairly didn't see how she could get out of this with her hands clean. And she was scared for what came next, too.

But that would be the world she returned to. That wasn't the world she was living in now.

Fairly looked warily at the jerky package that was meant to be her lunch. She had been feeling off for the past hour. The last thing she needed was to get sick now, when there was so much at stake. Amy stood with her back to Fairly, running a finger over a knife. It was time to get going again. Fairly put her hand on Amy's shoulder.

Before Fairly had the time to blink, Amy turned around and slashed at Fairly's arm. Fairly pulled back gasping, pressing a hand to the wound, just inches away from where the mutt bit her. "Amy, what are you doing?" She screamed as Amy lunged at her again.

Only when their faces were inches apart could Fairly see the green veins glowing in her eyes. In horror, Fairly looked down to find - as she suspected - green goo dripping out of Amy's bandage. So this is why the mutt had let them get away.

And once Fairly recognized the mutt in Amy, she couldn't restrain it in herself. Her mind was no longer in charge - it wasn't even there.

Her body was in control. And right now, her body wanted blood. She felt the wounds inflicted by Amy in a far away sense. But every drop of blood drawn from her ally's body made Fairly feel more powerful, like she could do anything - anything she wanted.

Amy held her knife to Fairly's throat, but with a swift kick to the chest, Amy was sent reeling back to the ground. She might have had the gumption, but Fairly had the strength. As Amy hit the ground, Fairly heard a delicious crack. Amy shakily got to her feet, stunned, but once she was standing she collapsed again. Fairly felt triumphant - but only for a moment - because as she looked down at Amy, she could see the mangled mess of her insides spilling out of her, and she felt the pain, all at once, sudden and warm and stinging.

She fell, her back to the ground, facing the sky. And as the adrenaline seeped out of her, the poison did, too. They had fought each other to death. Amy blinked, confused, and only from the ground could Fairly see the blood staining her red hair. She must have hit a rock as she went down. With all the strength she could muster, Fairly reached over and put her arm around Amy as she shivered.

"Amy," she started, her voice coming out as a hoarse whisper. A bit of blood bubbled against Amy's lips. "You're going to be okay. It's gonna be fine, just - you just -"

Amy closed her eyes.

"Hey, hey, don't do that. Amy? Please, Amy, this -" Her voice was thick with tears. "This can't be my fault. I can't - I - Amy, just, can you look at me? Can you - Amy, can you do that? Please, please. I'm sorry, I'm sorry." She didn't even notice the cannon fire.

"You're gonna be fine. I'm gonna bandage you up and you're gonna go home, and you'll see your family again. Don't you wanna do that, Amy? I'm gonna - I'm gonna bandage you up - I just - I just have to shut my eyes for a minute. Is that okay, Amy? Amy, please tell me it's okay."

Fairly thought she might have heard a whisper: _It's okay, Fairly. You can close your eyes now. It's okay._ Relieved and satisfied that Amy had spoken to her, had given her permission, Fairly shut her eyes. She died with an absent-minded smile on her face. Yes, it would all be better in the morning.


	30. You're Already Forgiven

**well, there's only one more chapter after this one but this is the penultimate chapter of the fic, so i just wanted to say thank you for reading! i do read the reviews and i am so grateful for all of them, so i appreciate the reviews. without further delay, here's the chapter you've all been waiting for**

Ash fiddled with Grandfather's chain around his neck. Well, he realized, it wasn't Grandfather's anymore. It was his. He felt the distant memory of Abbey telling him to fight tugging at him, but it was so far away. It was strange that he was so close to seeing his sister again. It didn't even feel real. Number-wise, he had a one-fourth chance of winning, but Ash still couldn't picture it, couldn't picture a world where he was the one left standing.

In the distance, a cannon went off. Ash and Ryker shared a glance. Only three left. The survivor was probably headed to them now. His heart was clenching, he felt his throat start to constrict, he was so goddamned scared. He stood up. He was feeling too restless to just sit around. He started to pace.

This was the last day. He just knew it. If it came down to him and Ryker, he knew Ryker would win. Ash just hoped that the third person would kill one of them and stop them from having to make that choice. It was a terrible wish, but he wished it anyway. He was reaching for the branch closest to him, just to have something solid to hold in his hands when the next cannon went off.

Achingly slowly, he looked at Ryker. Ryker shook his head in disbelief, his lips mouthing a silent plea - no, no, no. The branch slipped from Ash's hands.

What was he supposed to do? Kill Ryker? No. No, he couldn't do that, not after everything. But one of them had to go. He watched, frozen, as Ryker picked up a knife, his hand shaking so badly he almost dropped it twice. Ryker stood up, excruciatingly slowly, and walked towards Ash. "It's okay," Ash found himself whispering. And it was. If someone had to kill him, somehow it was better that it would be a friend, that it wouldn't be an act of hatred, or defensiveness, but of necessity.

Ryker looked as if he was hesitating for a moment, standing trembling in front of Ash. Ash wanted to tell him that he was already forgiven, that even as Ryker pressed a dagger into his chest, all he would feel for him was love. But courage was never his strong suit, and Ash could only be so brave. All he could do right now was hold his breath and wait.

Ryker's eyes were brimming with tears, and he seemed to be crumbling, but then his face hardened. With newfound resolve, Ryker leaned forward and - and pressed the knife flatly against Ash's chest forcing him to take it. "Do it," he said, steadily, though his lip was trembling. Ash felt his stomach turn to ice.

"No, no, not this, Ryker, a-anything but this, please."

"You deserve to go home."

"So do you," Ash found himself yelling. His knees were shaky. He felt like he might collapse any second. Despite his obvious efforts to remain strong, Ryker dissolved into tears.

"Please, Ash, I can't lose any more friends."

"Please don't make me," Ash whispered, feeling hot, burning tears rolling down his own face. How he wanted to turn back time, to bump into Ryker in the woods the first night and turn the other direction, never face this pain. Carefully, Ryker took the knife, placing it firmly in Ash's hands and pressing the point into his chest, wincing as it nicked him.

"Do you want to die, Ash?"

"I don't - I don't -" I don't know, Ash almost said.

"I don't either. But one of us has to." In the midst of everything, Ryker let out a wobbly smile, a teary laugh. "Who would've guessed at the beginning of all this, that we'd be fighting over which one of us gets to die?"

"Ryker -"

"Ash. All you have to do is push." Finally, Ryker's red eyes met Ash's and Ash understood. He understood what they meant to each other, what it meant to be an ally, what it meant to be a friend. And right now, it meant that there was one thing Ash could do to show that he listened to everything Ryker had taught him, and that he cared enough to honor it. "Please," Ryker said, though he seemed to realize that Ash understood him already. Ash loved Ryker. It was the simplest, most obvious thing to come out of these Games, and it was with this love, this striking, strangling love that Ash pushed on the blade.

As soon as Ryker fell, he regretted it. He pulled the knife out, frantically pressing his hands to Ryker's chest. "Stop - what are you doing?" Ryker rasped.

"I'm putting pressure on the wound!"

"No, don't put pressure on the wound. Don't do that. It's okay."

"N-no," Ash cried. "It's not. I didn't want to."

"I know you didn't." Ryker closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, Ash knew there were only moments left, precious moments, already slipping through his fingers. "You go home. You live a long, long life, like you were always supposed to. Forget about me, about Ellie, about everything you've seen here. Be happy. You're a good person, Ash. And I love you. You were supposed to win."

Ash clutched at Ryker's shoulders, wishing for more time, just a little bit more. He didn't want to go home anymore. He knew that when he did go home, he would still be here, that he was going to be stuck here forever, holding his dying friend and wishing their places were switched. "Okay, Ryker," he said, as Ryker shut his eyes. "I'll go home."

"Good," Ryker murmured, almost pleased. "Good."

And then the cannon fired and the trumpets blared and Ash was the winner. Lucky him. He would go home, do what Ryker wanted. But as he heard the hovercraft lower to pick him up, he knew that he would break one of the promises he'd made. He wouldn't forget.


	31. Epilogue

**Thank you so much for reading this story and keeping up with it, I absolutely adored writing it. I'm not sure I'll do another one of these for quite some time since it was so long! But I loved writing it, and I loved these characters, and I cried while killing them, just like you guys did (hopefully, but probably not lmao.) Thank you to everyone who reviewed, and a special thanks to TheAmazingAJ for reviewing very often, I loved reading your comments. I hope you guys were at least a little bit pleased with the ending.**

The Victor's Interview went by in a blur. The weirdest part was watching them play highlights from the Games. He barely registered watching himself cry, get hurt, help Ellie, hug Ryker. All of that already felt so far away. He took his congratulations as graciously as possible. He knew already that he wasn't going to be one of the beloved victors. But Ash thought he was okay with that.

"You did good, Ash." Haymitch said, seemingly sober, putting a hand on Ash's shoulders. Somehow, this meant more to him than all the kind words the Capitol citizens said to him the past week. Haymitch knew what it was like to lose people, too. Ash's throat constricted with tears, but he managed a nod. The train was pulling into District Twelve. He was home. Funny, he felt like he didn't know where that was anymore. "I'm always nearby," Haymitch said, in a startling moment of kindness.

Ash nodded again. He felt numb as he walked into District Twelve. Mothers cried and kissed him, little boys stared in awe. Families wouldn't have to worry about feeding their kids, at least for a little while. At least there was something good to come out of this. But none of it sank in until he saw Abbey, his sister, standing in their new house in Victor's Village.

Instantly she was wrapping her arms around him. "I'm so glad you're okay," she said.

"I - I -" He found himself starting to cry again, for the first time since he'd held Ryker's hand as he took his last painful breaths.

"I miss them," he choked out, finally.

"I know."

"I miss them so much."

"I know, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

There was nothing else to say, not really, but somehow it meant more coming from her. Finally, Ash took a shuddering breath and pulled away. This was his new life. There was no right way to start facing it.

Ryker had told him to be happy. Ash didn't know how to do that anymore. But he thought he owed it to Ryker to try and find out.


End file.
